


Face Everything and Rise

by FeatherQuillsFiction



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Because of Reasons, Cor is Prompto's adopted father, Gen, Multi, Nyx becomes a Kingsglaive Captain, Parent Cor Leonis, Platonic Soulmates, Pre-Canon, Selena Ulric Lives, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Trans Male Character, Trans Noctis Lucis Caelum, Trans Nyx Ulric, Warning: Dead Naming, Warning: Purposeful Use of Incorrect Pronouns, but it's for Noctis so it's not really "Kingsglaive", how to handle being an adult with four child soulmates: a novel by Nyx Ulric, kids trying to make things better but only making them worse, no one knows this until Prompto shows up tho, or it will be, sporadic posting schedule, that last tag kind of popped outta nowhere it was not originally planned for, the Princeglaive is a thing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-07
Updated: 2018-07-21
Packaged: 2019-05-03 10:08:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 48,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14566725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FeatherQuillsFiction/pseuds/FeatherQuillsFiction
Summary: Soulmate marks are fairly common on Eos, and are seen as blessings of Shiva herself. For Nyx Ulric, his has been a source of over a decade of waiting to meet his soulmates, and the knowledge that at least one was badly hurt. When he finally stumbles upon two of his soulmates, though, he ends up with far more trouble than he ever bargained for. After all, when your soulmates are at least a decade younger than you, and consist of a prince, two nobles, and the adopted Niflheim son of the Marshall, your life is about to get very complicated, very quickly.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> All right, so I've dive-bombed head first into Final Fantasy XV land recently. For those of you who may have read some of my other fics, I apologize, I've stalled out on them and the only hope I have of rekindling Dance of the Ice Dragoness is going to be a full rewrite from the beginning, and I don't know if I can submerge myself long enough to do that.
> 
> So! For this fic. I am trying to keep in mind the age difference between Nyx and the Chocobro's, which will probably be seen since it'll be mentioned quite a few times throughout the story. If anyone thinks I need to lay off of it a bit, or has any constructive advice on how to go about it without blaring it to the heavens, then please leave a comment! I would greatly appreciate it.
> 
> This will be my first posted fanfiction for Final Fantasy XV. Please keep in mind that I have not watched the Kingsglaive movie, though Nyx shall forever be my bae, nor have I gotten anywhere close to completing the actual game, not like that's stopped me from knowing the ending because I don't keep away from spoilers like a sane person. If I get characterizations incorrect, again, please leave a comment and tell me in a kind and constructive manner.
> 
> Well, that was a bit of a small essay, wasn't it? Anyways, sit back and enjoy the fic!

Nyx slumps through the halls away from the training room, a small depression cloud all but hovering over his head as he walks. Libertus rolls his eyes and smacks Nyx on the shoulder in an attempt to break him from his mood. “Oh, come on, Hero, you’ve got no reason to be a Debbie Downer. You totally owned that training room today!”

“Not the problem, Libs,” Nyx mopes, bottom lip a hairs edge from pouting.

Libertus frowns for a second, before he scoffs and nearly rolls his eyes again. “Oh for- Don’t tell me this is because it’s been a year since your last reaction.”

Nyx pouts at the reminder, shoulders slumping inwards even more. He got his Soul Mark all the way back when he was five, just like everyone else does, except he didn’t get a single reaction from it for fifteen years. That would have been fine, just meant that Nyx’s soulmate, or soulmates as the case seemed to be, weren’t in Galahd. Except last year, only about four months after the destruction of Galahd and Nyx joining the Kingsglaive, the Mark suddenly flared in sharp, agonizing pain, originating from whoever the Crystal represents, which means they were the one hurt. Nyx had to spend an entire _week_ on bedrest because his damn Mark had to be right over his tailbone, making walking practically impossible.

After that? Nothing. For a whole _year_.

It both irritates the fuck out of him and depresses him immensely.

Libertus groans, seeming to know the direction that Nyx’s brain is going, and yanks on one of his braids. “Damn it, man, not again. Don’t make me set Crowe on your ass to get you out of this slump.”

“I’m fine, Libs,” Nyx says dully, not even reacting to the sharp pain in his scalp from the tugging on his braid.

A small body suddenly collides with Nyx’s leg, which makes him stumble. “Oof!” a young voice says as the body falls to the floor. “Owie...”

Nyx blinks owlishly at the twerp that just ran into him and recognizes the Prince just in time for wide blue eyes to blink up at him. A sharp burn hits him in the tailbone, reminiscent of the year before but far less painful, and he bites the inside of his lip to keep from swearing the air blue. Of course. Of course, one of his soulmates ends up being the Prince, a kid over a decade younger than him. That is just his luck. Oh, he hopes those two reactions are completely unrelated to one another...

“Noctis! I told you to not run in the hallways!” another young voice, though this one sounds slightly older and more cultured to Nyx, yells from just ahead of them. Nyx looks up at the blonde-haired kid skidding to a stop in front of them, and vaguely recognizes Heir Scientia. “I’m sorry for him, Sir Glaive, I have no idea what just got into him,” Scientia says, bowing a little too low considering Nyx is a country nobody in comparison to the two children before him.

As another burning sensation crops up in his tailbone region, Nyx seriously considers cursing the air black. Instead, he forces himself to say, “No, there’s no trouble. Excuse us, your Highness, Heir Scientia.” He grabs ahold of Libertus’s arm and bolts down the hall, barely noticing Prince Noctis and Scientia rubbing their forearm and back of neck respectively as he passes.

He just rounds the corner with Libertus when Prince Noctis calls out, “Hey, wait!”

“Nyx, what the hell just happened?” Libertus hisses.

“We need to get somewhere private, preferably somewhere no one would look twice at you platonically stripping me,” Nyx says in an undertone, still jogging quickly through the halls despite the burning in his lower back.

Libertus is quiet for a second, before he says, “You don’t mean...”

“That’s what I want you to be telling me right now, Libs,” Nyx hisses, shooting a frantic look at his best friend and former fuck buddy back in their experimentation years.

Libertus rolls his eyes and drags Nyx into the closest bathroom, which makes the slighter Glaive wince at the pull in his shoulder because of the sudden direction change. Nyx finds himself ushered into a stall and is immensely glad that this particular bathroom is currently empty. He turns around and yanks his jacket off, sending up a mental prayer that Libertus won’t find what his heart is telling him has changed in his Soul Mark.

Nyx stills as his friend’s larger hands grab his hip and yank his shirt high enough, and pants low enough, to expose the Mark. He holds his breath as Libertus stays silent. “Shit, Nyx,” Libertus finally breathes.

He flinches. “Which one?”

“The dagger and the crystal.”

A whine tears from the back of his throat. Oh, he is _so doomed_. “How? I’m a decade older than both of them, at least!”

“Well, look at it this way,” Libertus says as he smacks Nyx’s hip and releases the shirt and vest. “At least you don’t have a reason to mope anymore.”

Nyx glares over his shoulder as Libertus moves to stand. “Fuck you.” He tugs his jacket back on and says, “I’m likely to end up dead because of this, and you only care about the fact I won’t be moping?”

“I thought you said you weren’t moping?” Libertus teases, a smile stretching across his lips as he steps out of the stall. “And you won’t be dead. That would hurt his Majesty’s precious Prince.”

“Again: Fuck. You.”

* * *

Regis glances up and smiles as Noctis bounds inside the study, looking far more energetic than he has been, reminding the King of how his son was before the daemon attack last year. “Dad, dad, Iggy and I found one of our soulmates!” the hyperactive nine-year-old says, a wide smile on his lips and eyes dancing happily. “See, look!”

Regis takes a close look at the Mark on Noctis’s forearm- the only hope he has that his son will live through the end of the Prophecy of Light- and smiles when he notices that the kukri has filled in with the same shade of iridescent blue as the dagger and Crystal. “That is wonderful news, Noct. Can you tell me who it is?”

“Well, he left before we could get his name, but he was in the Kingsglaive uniform walking away from the training areas. He had a mohawk like Uncle Clarus has in your old pictures, except his has braids on both sides of his head, and he’s got these little tattoos on his face,” Noctis rambles, smile not decreasing a centimeter as he speaks. “And his eyes are almost the same shade of blue as mine! Though he seemed really spooked, and he didn’t even give us an opportunity to check and make sure he really was ours before he bolted.”

“Hm, a Glaive with a mohawk and blue eyes,” Regis muses, reaching for the recent report from Drautos on one of his recruit teams that have been with the Kingsglaive for a year now. Regis knows that none of his older Glaive’s match that description, and besides which Noctis has already met a good number of them. He flips through the files on the various recruits, before he finds one that seems to match the description Noctis gave of his new soulmate. “Is this who you met?”

Noctis takes one look at the picture and nods furiously. “Uh-huh! That’s him!”

Regis hums as he scans the file. Nyx Ulric, twenty-one years old, has refused the doctor’s suggestion of giving him HRT despite it being under his Crown-issued health insurance, appears to have a combination of PTSD from the destruction of Galahd and death of his mother and younger sister according to his psyche profile, and a rather large insubordination streak, for all that it does benefit the other Glaive’s on mission with him. He is a registered Soul Mark bearer, it’s noted in his file that he had a week last year where he’d been incapacitated due to a flare up from his Mark, the date of which coincides with the daemon attack. No image of what the Mark looks like, which isn’t too surprising, Soul Marks are private things until fully colored in, however a general area of the pelvic regions was admitted to after the flare up.. Noctis has taken to wearing a glove on his left hand to keep his Mark covered, and Ignis wears turtlenecks no matter what the weather is like.

Putting the thought aside, Regis smiles down at Noctis and places a hand on his son’s head. “I’ll see to it that Captain Drautos brings Sir Ulric here as soon as possible,” he says, his smile turning soft as Noctis cheers. “In the meantime, why don’t you go inform Ignis as to who your new soulmate is, hm? No doubt he’ll be able to find the public records for the both of you to look through.”

“Sure thing, dad!” Noctis hugs Regis before he bounds out of the study, glove once more in its place.

Regis sits back, and once again ignores the throbbing ache that stems from his partially destroyed Soul Mark. “Oh, Aulea, my dear. If only you were here to witness this moment,” he whispers into the silence. He sits there for a few minutes, before he sighs and reaches for his phone.

* * *

Nyx swallows harshly and knocks on Captain Drautos’s door. This is the only thing he can think of that won’t end with him dying by the King’s hands for being soul bonded to the Prince. Having to work around Libertus trying to destroy his resignation paperwork sucked, but luckily Nyx made sure to grab four copies and finished one while making Libertus think he was filling out one of the other three, which Libertus kept destroying.

Drautos’s dry voice breaks Nyx from his reverie. “Enter.”

Nyx quietly steps inside and waits for Drautos to look up at him. When he receives a raised eyebrow, Nyx says, “Sir, I’m here to offer my resignation from the Kingsglaive.”

Drautos’s other eyebrow shoots up, and the scarred man sits back in his chair, eyes assessing Nyx carefully. Finally, the Captain asks, “On what grounds, Ulric? No matter how insubordinate you are, you’re still one of my top Glaive recruits.”

“I’ve found two of my soulmates,” Nyx says, taking a breath before admitting the reason for his resignation. “They are Prince Noctis and his Retainer, Heir Scientia.”

Drautos blinks slowly at Nyx, not removing his eyes from his most troublesome Glaive as he reaches for his chiming phone. Nyx swallows as Drautos answers the call. “Drautos here. Yes, your Majesty? ...understood, I’ll bring him to you immediately.” Nyx closes his eyes and prays for Titan to open up a hole directly under him so he can be swallowed up by the earth. “Looks like your attempted resignation will have to be put on hold, Ulric. I’m to take you to his Majesty’s study.”

“Yes, sir,” Nyx says, wincing slightly at how strained his voice sounds.

He’s dead. He is so dead, so very, very, _very_ dead. That mantra fills his mind as he follows along behind Drautos, all the way to the King’s study.

Before Drautos leaves, he claps Nyx’s shoulder and says rather pointedly, “I’ll know if you don’t go in there, Glaive.”

Well. _That_ wasn’t ominous at all.

Nyx gathers up what little courage he can find in his terrified little heart and carefully knocks on the door.

“Come in, Sir Ulric,” the King’s voice sounds, muffled from the wood. Nyx isn’t actually surprised that King Regis knows who it is outside the study, since he almost literally just called for him, and so steps inside the study.

“Your Majesty,” Nyx says, bowing appropriately before he falls into careful parade rest. He fights against the urge to fidget with the papers in his hand as King Regis and Lord Amicitia seem to study him for a couple minutes. Finally, he gets far too uncomfortable, and asks, “You requested to see me, your Majesty?”

“Yes. Tell me, what is that in your hand?”

Nyx tenses, fingers tightening on the papers enough for it to crinkle slightly. “Ah, my resignation paperwork from the Kingsglaive, sir,” he answers, hesitant.

King Regis sits back and motions for Nyx to hand over the paperwork. Certain that his stomach falls straight through the floor at the movement, Nyx marches up to the desk and passes the papers over. King Regis looks them over with a non-critical eye, before he glances up at Nyx, rips the small stack in two, and sets the halves on fire. “That won’t be necessary, Sir Ulric,” King Regis says, his voice almost suspiciously blank. “Sit down, so we may discuss what will be occurring from now on, what with your recent discovery of two of four soulmates.”

Nyx eyes the King and Lord Amicitia warily. “Permission to speak freely, sirs?” When he receives a nod of agreement, he continues, “Am I going to end up dead by the end of this discussion? That’s why I wrote up the resignation paperwork, trying to avoid that outcome.”

King Regis actually blinks in what looks like surprise at Nyx’s question. Lord Amicitia just snorts. “Absolutely not,” the King rather firmly says. “Both myself and Clarus lost our third soulmate, and believe me when I say, I would not wish the pain onto my worst enemy, much less my son and his other mates.”

While glad at that answer, Nyx still asks, “Imprisoned? Banished from Insomnia? Demoted into the Crownsguard? Something?” After all, what sort of parent turns a blind eye over a grown man a full decade older than their only child being said child’s soulmate. Sure, no one has any say in who their mate or mates are, but Nyx still fully expects _some_ sort of backlash from the King. Heck, he’s fully prepared to offer up his braids if the King knows what that means to a Galahdan and accepts it as punishment!

And has he been blabbing like Pelna on a high rant of his? Because his throat definitely felt like he has.

King Regis just raises an eyebrow and smiles- actually fucking _smiles_ \- at Nyx. “Sir Ulric, while it does warm my heart to know you at least understand the ethics of the situation, I am nowhere near inclined to allow that to occur, unless you give me good reason to.” Yup, he definitely mimicked Pelna there. “You see, when Noctis came to me today to inform me of your meeting, that was the most energized I had seen him in nearly a year. So, no, you will not be imprisoned, or banished, or anything of the kind.” He then purposefully glances over to the seat on Nyx’s side of the desk, which prompts the Glaive to cautiously lower himself into it. “In fact, I would say that this is cause for a bit of a promotion for you,” the King continues, his smile turning sharp and eyes sly. “After all, I would not wish the pain of losing a soulmate onto my own son, and who better to lead his eventual regiment of Kingsglaive than one of his own mates, hm?”

Nyx realizes exactly the corner he has just unknowingly backed himself into and blanches. Oh shit. Is he being taken off the front lines? Stuck on effectively permanent babysitting duty just because one of his soulmates is the Prince? He would rather hand over his braids and be forced to keep his distance for the rest of his days than this.

The King doesn’t seem to notice the thoughts flying through Nyx’s mind, though the Glaive suspects that Lord Amicitia has a guess. “Now, I already wrote up your new orders before your arrival. You are to deliver them to Captain Drautos and Marshall Leonis once our meeting is concluded, in that order,” King Regis continues, as if everything is fine in the world, as he straightens out a packet of papers on his desk. “For now, however, I do believe I shall take this opportunity to instill the fear of the Six into you. It wouldn’t be fair for me to double dip later in life, after all.”

And suddenly, Nyx isn’t looking at his King, but at a particularly judgmental Father whose only child has just learned one of his soulmates is twelve years older than him.

Nyx really hopes that Titan will just, you know, open up that hole at any time now.

* * *

Well.

Nyx is still alive and in one piece.

He floats down the halls, caught up in a fear-induced haze created by the King’s idea of a shovel talk. He never wants to experience something quite that terrifying ever again and prays, rather fervently, to the Six that his other three soulmates don’t have nearly as scary shovel-wielders when he finally meets them. And he is including Scientia in that, despite the rumors Nyx has heard about the Retainer’s Uncle.

There is also the fact that, according to the orders he’s glanced at while heading down the halls, he is going to be placed at, effectively, the same rank as Drautos after six months of Officer’s Training under the Marshall, and Nyx is still reeling from everything being thrown at him.

All because he’s the Prince’s soulmate.

And to think, he’d been moping just that morning over not having had a reaction in over a year.

He has to have jinxed himself somehow.

A heavy slap to his shoulder drags him out of his fugue state, and he blinks at Libertus as the shorter man says, “Damn, Nyx, what happened? You gave me the slip and now you’re looking like this! What, did you actually get kicked or something? Demoted? What?”

“Oh, it’s ‘or something’ alright,” he grouses, fighting the urge to glare at the stack of orders in his hand. “Listen, I gotta hand these over to the Captain then head over to the Marshall’s office. I’ll fill you in once we’re off the clock. Either that, or you can just hang out around the door while I deliver these orders.”

“You’d damn well better,” Libs says, worry creasing his expression. “Crowe and Pelna will be wanting that explanation, too.”

Nyx nods as he finally reaches Drautos’s office. He takes a deep breath and lets the déjà vu wash over him as he knocks far more enthusiastically than he did just an hour before.

“...enter?”

Nyx buries a smirk over how wary Drautos sounds, and swings the door wide open, his signature roguish grin on his face. “Oh, Captain! I am here to inform you that I am no longer your problem. Congratulations,” he cheerfully states as he waltzes inside the office and dramatically hands over one of the stacks of papers.

Drautos raises an eyebrow and drily asks, “Why’re you so happy if your resignation went through?”

“Oh, because it didn’t,” Nyx says far more calmly. “The King ripped it in half and set it on fire almost as soon as he got ahold of it. No, these are my new orders, you’re free to take your time reading them. If you’ll excuse me, I have to take this,” he pats the other stack still in his grasp, “to the Marshall and find out when I need to report in for Crownsguard Officer Training with him. The next time we see each other, it’ll likely be as equals. Ta-ta!” His grin stretches further as Drautos freezes at that comment. Nyx takes that as his que to leave, whistling jauntily because he could as he steps out of the office and closes the door behind him.

Libertus stares at Nyx like he just grew a second head. “Equals?” he says, eyebrows almost reaching his hairline.

Nyx shrugs and walks down the halls again, Libertus following along behind him. “King’s orders. I’m going to be Prince Noctis’s Glaive Regiment Commander, which means six months of Officer Training with Marshall Leonis for me.” He slumps a little and pouts, “Which almost means being confined to the Citadel for six months and kept off the front lines for longer.”

Libertus snickers and pats Nyx consolingly on the shoulder. “Awe, poor Nyxie-sticks,” Libs teases. “Can’t be out on the field being the Hero like normal. Whatever shall you do?”

Nyx shrugs Libertus off and rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Though, I feel like I should warn you...” He glances at Libertus and grins. “If I’m going down, I’m taking you with me.”

“What...” Libertus blinks and stops walking. Nyx whistles a jaunty Galahdan folksong as he walks away from his friend, who no doubt is slowly realizing just what Nyx is implying. “Oh no. HELL no! I am NOT taking orders from you!” Libertus shouts after Nyx.

The slighter Glaive just waves at Libertus. “Sorry, buddy, gotta make this delivery to the Marshall, we’ll catch up later!” Nyx snickers as Libertus shouts Galahdan curse words after him. He is going to hold onto his humor for as long as he can, considering who he’s going to be dealing with next, and he still has that fear and terror resting on their laurels in the back of his mind. Ah, Libs is likely to murder him for that, but there is no way Nyx is making a Glaive regiment without his best friend. Hm, maybe he’ll be less murderous if Nyx also snags Crowe and Pelna later, once his officer training is done...

Nyx puts those thoughts aside as he reaches the Marshall’s office. Since he’s still riding high on finally being able to tell his hard-ass former Captain where to shove it, he knocks almost as jauntily on this door as he had on Drautos’s. Which is probably not a good move, but he can’t take it back, unfortunately.

“Enter,” comes the clipped order from the other side of the door, which firmly knocks Nyx down from his high. The Glaive opens the door and steps inside, fighting down the urge to run as Cor Leonis doesn’t even bother looking up from his paperwork, not even to glare at him. “You’re late, Ulric.”

Nyx blinks. “Uh, the King didn’t say there was a time requirement for the...”

“You’re. Late.” Marshall Leonis glances up momentarily at Nyx, who swallows fearfully.

“Of course, Marshall. Apologies,” he manages to say somewhat evenly, his terror rising to the forefront once more.

Marshall Leonis glances over Nyx for a second more, before he turns his gaze back to his paperwork. “Sit.” Nyx quickly steps forward and places the orders on the edge of the Marshall’s desk, before sitting just as quickly in the chair on the same side of the desk as him. Leonis just pushes the orders aside, still focusing more on his own paperwork than the meeting itself. “I have already been made aware of your new orders, and the circumstances surrounding them. In four days, you are to report to Training Room 6 at eight AM sharp for the initial testing. Use the next three days to get your apartment ready to be uninhabited for months at a time.”

Nyx hesitates, and asks, “Testing, Marshall?”

Leonis glances up at Nyx and raises an eyebrow. “Do you expect me to begin training you without learning what you are already capable of?” Nyx flushes and feels like hitting himself, because yeah, that makes sense. Leonis snorts. “The first three days will be the testing. Physical, practical, and magical, in that order. You will then have the weekend to rest, and then training will begin in earnest on Monday. Do not get accustomed to the lax schedule; I will be grinding you into dust during the proper training once I have a baseline to work with.” Leonis stamps one of his pieces of paperwork and shifts it aside as he adds, “Dismissed, Ulric.”

Nyx stands and wobbles over to the door, only pausing when Leonis says, “Oh, and Ulric?”

The Glaive turns and regards the Marshall fearfully. “Yes, sir?”

Nyx shivers as the full brunt of the Marshall’s attention fixates on him in a glare. “If I hear anything about you hurting my nephew, no one will find your body. Because there will not be a body left to find. Am I understood?”

Nyx swallows down a bit of stomach acid. Oh. Right. He actually forgot that little tidbit of information. “Absolutely, Marshall,” he manages to squeak out, staying as still as he can as the hindbrain screams at him that doing so will prevent any harm from being directed his way.

“Good.” Leonis turns back to his paperwork and pauses. “You may continue out of the threshold, Ulric.”

“Yes, sir,” Nyx squeaks. “Sorry, sir.” He’s never moved that fast unless he was warping or running from daemons on the battlefield. He carefully closes the door behind him and fights against sagging back into it as his knees shake in terror. Holy fuck, that was worse than the King’s shovel talk. Memo to self: _never_ piss off the Immortal unless he truly wishes to die.

* * *

“All right, looks like you fucks get to raid my pantry dry,” Nyx declares as he steps into the Kingsglaive break room, clapping his hands to make sure he has everyone’s attention. “First dibs will go to Grandma, but I am willing to cook dishes so long as you get whatever ingredients I don’t have in the pantry or fridge. Any leftover ingredients go to Libs while actual leftovers are going to Pelna’s meal stock.”

The gathering of his comrades stares at him in confusion and curiosity. Libertus, Pelna, and Crowe all look rather incredulous at his statement. Suddenly, a great cheer of joy bursts out from the Glaive’s in the room. Hey, somewhat free food. They’re all down for that.

Nyx is quick to add, “You have three days to do this in.”

“What?!” Axis yelps. “That’s barely any time to plan!”

“Come on, we’ll just have to compile favorite dishes and figure out from there,” Luche says, quickly gathering a hoard of Glaives surrounding him.

Nyx moves over to a corner of the room and lets himself be pinned there by his three friends. “Alright, so you’ve got three days before that training session with the Marshall starts up,” Libertus says, crossing his arms and glaring at Nyx. “I take it you can start explaining exactly what’s going on now?”

Nyx rubs the back of his neck and gives a sheepish smile. “Uh, yeah. So, as Libs probably told you two,” he looks at Crowe and Pelna as he speaks, “I found two of my soulmates today. Unfortunately, they’re Prince Noctis and his Retainer, Heir Scientia. I tried handing in my resignation from the Glaive, but the King absconded with me through Drautos before it could even get processed properly. And then it ended up ripped in half and set on fire. So, I’m not resigning my post!”

“While good to have that rumor disabused, what the hell is happening then?” Pelna deadpans.

Nyx waves. “I’m getting to that. So, after the King ripped up my resignation, I confirmed that there would be no death, banishment, or demotion occurring just because of, well. Soulmate. Is the Prince. Yeah. Anyways, he’s essentially shoving me into Crownsguard Officer Training for six months and then placing me in charge of Prince Noctis’s ‘eventual’ Kingsglaive regiment.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Crowe says, holding her hands up. “So, you’re going to be leading your own group of Glaives? Whose bright idea was that?”

“Worse, he’s threatening to drag me along with him,” Libertus gripes.

“Hey, _hey_ , I’ll need some veteran Glaives in the group, and who else would I Glaive-nap but my best friend, yeah?” Nyx says, grinning widely. “And I think the King came up with this all on his own. Said it was a way to ensure the Prince doesn’t lose one of his soulmates.”

“Still,” Crowe says, hesitating for a second. “When’re you expected to come back out into the front lines?”

“Dunno. Whenever the regiment’s built up enough and the Prince can handle the strain of sharing magic,” Nyx shrugs. “Trust me, I am not looking forward to being trapped in the City for who-knows-how-long. It’s why I’m threatening to drag Libs down with me.”

“And I still say I’m not taking orders from you, dipshit,” Libertus snarks.

“Alright, I’m curious. Who’s in charge of Crownsguard Officer Training?” Pelna asks.

Nyx winces and rubs his hand over his lips. “Ah, yeah, thanks for reminding me.” He sighs and slumps against the walls making up the corner. “It’s the Marshall. You know, the Prince’s Uncle. I swear, I thought the King was terrifying juggling three fireballs one handed while explaining in exacting detail what would happen if I hurt either Prince Noctis or Heir Scientia. The Marshall’s on a whole other level,” he mutters, shuddering as the memory of both incidents returns to the forefront of his mind.

All three of his friends wince at that. “Okay, yeah, you’re screwed sideways,” Crowe admits, patting Nyx on the shoulder. “So, three days? I take it your off work for all of them, right?”

“Yeah, no idea what the new schedule’s gonna be like or who’s taking my shifts,” Nyx says. He then shakes his head and pushes away from the corner. “Anyways, I should probably head back home. Need to get the list of what’s in my pantry and fridge up on the forum, and I should probably alert the landlord that I’m going to be out of the apartment for six whole months. Hopefully he won’t charge me extra for it,” he mutters under his breath.

“He’s a dick, of course he’ll try charging you extra,” Crowe deadpans. “Just remember to keep up with rent and utilities and there shouldn’t be too much problem. Hopefully.”

“Just don’t jinx it, Crowe,” Nyx sighs as he slips past his friends. He raises his voice and says, “Alright, I’ll make sure to add the contents of my pantry to the forum so you lot can start your damn planning properly! Remember, Grandma gets the first pick of ingredients, so the best ones will likely be claimed by her!” He waves as he gets various sounds of agreement from the grouping of Glaive’s, striding out of the breakroom.

Okay. Now let’s just hope he survives through the training Marshall Leonis has planned for him.


	2. Chapter 2

Nyx skids into training room 6 barely half a minute before eight o’clock Wednesday morning, wincing as Marshall Leonis gives him an unamused look. “I’m not late?” he tries to say positively, but it comes out more questioning and wary than he meant it to.

The Marshall looks Nyx over, clearly unimpressed. “I suppose you’re not,” he deadpans, clicking his phone off. “What took you so long? Traffic wasn’t that horrible this morning.”

Nyx’s wince worsens. “Car traffic wasn’t the issue. It normally only takes me an hour and a half to reach the Citadel, especially with clogged foot traffic.” He shrugs at the almost curious look the Marshall gives him. “A car’s too expensive to maintain on my salary. So,” he says in an attempt to divert the topic, “how’re these tests going to happen?”

Once again, Marshall Leonis seems to assess him for a minute, before he answers. “We’ll start with combat and work from there. You’re only allowed to use your weapons, no magic usage, including your warp ability.” Nyx watches as the Marshall materializes a katana out of the air, much like how the King and those close to him can, and swallows harshly at the almost feral grin that takes over Leonis’s face. “Try and keep up.”

Nyx barely has time to draw a kukri from his thigh holster before Leonis is swinging at his head. Metal screams against metal as the two blades clash together. Nyx pushes back against the blade, springs away so he has room to draw his other kukri.

Their blades clash again. His off-hand kukri lashes out, but Leonis steps out of range. Nyx steps in close, trying to duck under Leonis’s guard, and ends up being kicked back. He grunts as his back hits one of the pillars and ignores the initial swing of Leonis’s blade in favor of the feint the man’s trying for.

He lashes a kick out. His foot glances off the Immortal’s torso. It knocks the man off balance enough for Nyx to pull Leonis forward and use his back as a horizontal plane to roll on. He steps out of the way of the backslash the maneuver gains him, and again to try and gain some more space.

Okay. He can’t use his magic, so he’s got to rely on his own strength and speed. Nyx blocks and dodges a couple more attacks, and spins behind another pillar. He sprints to the pillar across the room and uses it as a springboard to launch himself into the air. He twists around and lashes out at the openly surprised Leonis, barely managing to leave a cut behind on the Immortal’s cheek before his blades once more crash into the katana.

Heh. Okay, so just like fighting in Galahd Canyon back home.

Except instead of hunting various creatures, he’s fighting a man with two and a half feet of steel in his hands and just as much, if not more, ingenuity than Nyx does.

If it weren’t terrifying to be fighting the Immortal of the Crownsguard, Nyx would actually be having fun right now.

They continue on like that for what felt like _hours_ , but was actually only one, Leonis not even giving Nyx a chance to catch his breath or focus on anything other than attack, react, and defend. Nyx hadn’t realized just how much he had come to use the King’s magic in combat until he’s been forced to not use it. The urge to fling his kukri’s away and warp to gain distance is so overwhelming at times, but he forces himself to instead gain ground the normal way. He pushes and kicks at Leonis, tugging him off balance only a couple more times to flip and roll over the man’s back, uses the pillars to his advantage more often, either to block attacks or to use as launch pads for his more acrobatic techniques he derived his warp attacks from. By the time Leonis finally calls an end, Nyx is sore and just wants to demolish a buffet and slump to the ground in a week-long coma.

Instead, Nyx forces himself to stand, groaning as the bruises on top of bruises make themselves known. He winces and pokes at one of his numerous cuts he received from Leonis’s damnable katana. How the man could move that thing so quickly, Nyx doesn’t understand, but he is highly jealous of the kind of dexterity required for it.

“I’ll admit, you’re better than I expected without the King’s magic,” Leonis admits, and there’s another thing that Nyx is stupidly jealous of, because the Marshall doesn’t even sound winded.

Nyx grabs the water bottle thrown at his head out of the air and chugs back a good third of it in one go. “Was a hunter back in Galahd,” he gasps. “Had to learn how to use the environment to my advantage to avoid the coeurls and other nasties.”

“Hm. Most of those moves looked rusty,” Leonis states, watching Nyx intently. “Your stamina’s better than I expected, though we’ll see how much that holds up in the next series of tests. Luckily it doesn’t look like you need a binder, otherwise you’d be in more trouble than you already are. I’ll have to see how far your flexibility extends, too. And you’re clearly too accustomed to warping out of danger. Most of the times I nicked you could have been avoided otherwise.”

“Yes, sir,” Nyx winces, getting the creeping feeling that those points are going to be what’s focused on first in the proper training sessions and ignoring the comment about his lack of need for a binder. Instead, he focuses on the important part: “There’s going to be other tests?”

Leonis looks at Nyx as if he’s being particularly stupid. “That was your warm up, Ulric. Put the water down and get in push-up position, I want you to do as many as you can in five minutes.”

Nyx does not whine high in his throat upon hearing that declaration. He doesn’t.

* * *

**N: Someone come peel me off the floor. I can’t move.**

**N: Also, new rule one: NO GRUDGE WITH CROWNSGUARD. Leonis is terrifying.**

**L: Not. Taking. Orders. From you.**

**N: Still. Good basic idea.**

**C: Oh, come on, Hero, how bad could it be?**

**N: He started us off with full contact, no magic sparring, Crowe.**

**P: Yeah, I mean, not all the rumors about the Immortal can be right, right?**

**N: For a full hour, I had to play keep-away with a razor-sharp katana and those damned tree trunks he calls legs.**

**N: I had to break out the old Hunter techniques to get anywhere against him.**

**L: Suck it up, you big baby. You’re one of the best Hunter’s from Galahd.**

**N: THAT WAS THE WARM UP, LIBS.**

**N: He THEN started in on the drills. You know. Push-ups, sit-ups, pull-ups, laps, SUICIDES, shit like that.**

**N: Including some twisted flexibility test. I had no idea the human body could bend in that many ways until today. Well, I had some idea, but that was just hell.**

**N: And then I had to spar him AGAIN, FOR AN HOUR, as the damn cool down!**

**P: Ouch...**

**C: All without magic? Like, you couldn’t even warp??**

**N: I can barely feel my limbs, guys.**

**N: And yep. Not even warp was allowed.**

**C: Shit, man. Glad I’m not you.**

**N: Thanks for the sympathy, Crowe. I’m overwhelmed by it. Really.**

**N: Ugh, at least I’m sort of getting a break tomorrow.**

**P: Oh? Leonis doesn’t seem the type to give breaks.**

**N: Theoretical test. I get to rest for a day before having to flex my black-mage muscles.**

**N: Or whatever hell Leonis can come up with for a Magic test.**

**N: -sigh- at least I’m getting two days off after that before being thrown headfirst into training.**

**L: He’s probably going hard on you just ‘cause you’re a Glaive.**

**L: Sounds like something Drautos would do, anyways.**

**N: Nope. He literally said quite a number of times that some of his Crownsguard could do better. I don’t think he was just taunting me, either.**

**N: Gotta go, my bed in the barracks is calling my name right now.**

* * *

Nyx is fairly certain that the Astrals hate him.

He manages to get to the room Leonis gave him yesterday ten minutes before he’s to be there, thank the Six for the barracks being so close to the Citadel training areas, and Monica Elsheart, his examiner for the day, drops him right into the thick of this “theoretical test” the Crownsguard have concocted. He holds onto his initial hope that this test won’t be the same or similar hell as the physical testing was, but is quickly disabused of this hope within the first ten minutes. It’s not the same.

It’s worse.

Several various situations are explained to him, and he’s required to give orders on the fly as if he is actually in those situations, adapting as Elsheart adds details that his orders have created, trying to manage keeping as many of this imaginary team alive while taking down the “enemy” and ensuring the positive outcome of the situation with somewhat high morale. It’s a lot harder than he thought, and that’s only the start of it. She questions him on ethics, has him fill out mock mission paperwork until he thought his hand would fall off, makes him recite as many of the Lucian laws and codes as he can list off the top of his head and explain why he remembers them, or how they can be applied to various situations. By the time lunch rolls around, Nyx feels like his head is stuffed full of cotton, and he doesn’t even care that he’s eating the rather bland Citadel food.

After lunch isn’t much better, because she makes him read all of the Lucian laws, or as many as he can in two hours, and debate their effectiveness and necessity in current times with her for another two hours. She then makes him go _back_ to those initial situations presented to him at the start of the test and see what changes to the “orders” he gave could be made, and whether they would change the outcome.

**N: My brain has liquified. I’m fairly certain it’s dripping out of my ears.**

**C: Can’t you pick a better time to text? I’m about to go on duty!**

**N: Nope. Sorry. Brain is liquid.**

**N: And my throat burns.**

**P: What sort of theoretical test would leave your throat burning??**

**N: The type where the majority of the test is oral. Honestly, why do Crownsguard go through this willingly???**

**N: Also, no one can know how bad the Immigrant District is. Apparently, several things going on go against building and ethics codes.**

**P: What?! Where’d you learn that?!**

**N: Reading Lucian laws. For two hours. And then debating them. For two hours.**

**C: Oh, ouch... Yeah, keep the conditions away from your new minis, Hero.**

**C: Gotta go, shift’s about to start. Libs should be off his by nine tonight, expect him to get back to you then.**

**P: Yeah, I’m on same shift as Crowe. Good luck, Nyx!**

Nyx glares at his phone before slipping it into his pocket. He almost jumps out of his skin as his free hand is grabbed by a smaller one, and blinks at the small, dark-haired form towing him along behind him. “Ah, little Prince?” Nyx asks, not exactly functional enough to fight against the nine-year-old, which was honestly just sad.

“C’mon, you’re done with Monica for the day, right?” Prince Noctis turns his head and asks, forcing Nyx to stare into wide blue eyes. “Iggy’s getting dinner ready in the kitchen, and he even said he’d make cookies for you. They’re chocolate chip, so we’re going to have to fight Dad and Uncle Clarus off them if they find out about the batch.”

“Um, ah... why?”

Nyx receives a stare that is clearly questioning his intelligence. Considering he honestly does think his brain has become liquid inside his skull, he’s not entirely sure he should be offended by it. “You’re our soulmate,” Prince Noctis says, as if that explains everything. “We’re supposed to get to know each other and spend time together, right? That’s how Iggy and Dad explained it. I mean, I know it might be weird, considering I’m the Prince and all, but we really do want to spend time with you, Nyx. Do, do you not want to...”

Oh no. Oh no, oh the Prince looks like he’s about to start crying. “N-no, it’s not that,” Nyx says hurriedly. “It’s just- The age difference- Won’t it be, y’know, weird, hanging out with an adult when you’re still a kid?”

Prince Noctis blinks at Nyx for a second. “Wait, so it’s not because of my position?”

“The only reason I have to worry because of your position, little Prince, is whether the King or his Shield, or your Uncle, decide to geld me if I do something wrong, like hurt you,” Nyx says reassuringly. “While it’s... not exactly comfortable, considering I _am_ a Galahdan immigrant in Insomnia, I- I think I can get, well, used to it, I suppose. No, it’s- more because a grown man spending time around children, even if they are soulmates... it tends to get side-eyed. Really badly.”

The Prince tilts his head a certain way, and suddenly Nyx can only think of a black chocobo chick staring at him. “Like when Lady Ethelhart kept looking at me weird and making comments about her daughter? Iggy and Dad were really angry over those comments, I think it’s because Lady Ethelhart’s daughter’s, like, twenty-five, and I was six at the time.”

Nyx suddenly has the urge to hunt down this “Lady Ethelhart” and introduce his kukris to her spinal column. “Yes, exactly like that,” Nyx says rather tightly.

“So, if we made sure to only go places where others could keep an eye on us, so they’re not worrying about that, you wouldn’t mind spending time with us?”

This is a trap. Nyx is fairly certain he has been cornered into a trap. He’s not certain he likes the fact that the Lucis Caelum’s appear to have a talent for backing him into traps. “Um, I, suppose that would be alright,” Nyx stutters out. “Though if I’ve got training I won’t be able to do that.”

“That’s fine!” Prince Noctis beams up at Nyx. “Iggy’s got school to go to, and I’ve got lessons, and I’ve been watching Iggy train with his daggers recently. Maybe I could watch Uncle Cor train you sometime!”

Alarm klaxons go off in Nyx’s head, but he feels that if he tries to argue against that idea he’ll end up being pouted at until he agrees. Damn, the Prince already has him wrapped around his pinky finger.

* * *

Nyx slowly blinks his eyes open, and stares sightlessly at the unfamiliar ceiling above him. Wha...? This... isn’t his bunk in the barracks. The bed’s way too soft and comfortable for that. And he can’t see the ceiling in his bottom bunk. And were those... weights on his arms?

Bleary eyes turn to his right side, where a spiky black head of hair is nuzzled into his chest, and then look to the left at the dirty blonde hair resting on his shoulder. Oh. Right. Noctis had absconded with him into the kitchens, and he finally properly got to know two of his soulmates. Kind of. Ignis was an okay cook, in Nyx’s opinion, just didn’t spice the food enough for the Galahdan-raised taste buds. Then again, hardly anyone spices their food enough in the opinion of someone raised in Galahd. Thank the Six that one of the chefs had the specialty hot sauce made from those really tiny hot peppers Libertus used to dare Nyx to hunt down and eat when they were younger; it was a small bottle, so he had to be careful using it, but even the small amount made the meal more palatable to him. Ignis then almost committed Galahdan sacrilege and asked for the chef to teach him some of the recipes from home. Nyx is just glad that Ignis accepted learning only the more common recipes and didn’t try to push the issue.

After that... Nyx thinks Ignis had made up some sort of concoction out of a small brown book, said it was something to help with the bruises and aches Nyx had (which were compounded by the fact that his time of the month started up in the middle of the test), and made the Glaive drink it, but Nyx couldn’t exactly remember anything afterwards. Like how he ended up with two limpets attached to him in the middle of the night.

Or how he ended up in what he thinks is the Prince’s bedroom.

Hadn’t Noctis promised to keep in sight of others so they didn’t worry about Nyx potentially molesting the kids? Not like Nyx ever would, but he knows it’s a worry in these circumstances.

He glances over Ignis’s head, and nearly freaks out when he realizes he’s only got twenty minutes to get to the training room Elsheart mentioned yesterday. Oh crap, he’s not going to have time to get breakfast, and today’s the magic test! Okay, step one, Ulric, remove the limpets.

Easier said than done.

Ignis solves the issue by rolling over all on his own and nuzzling (rather cutely) into a nearby pillow. Noctis is not so cooperative. Apparently, the Prince has the grip of a behemoth in his sleep. It takes Nyx almost ten minutes to shift Noctis over to the pillow Nyx had been sleeping on, and the Glaive can’t help but shake his head in bemusement when he finally accomplishes this, because Noctis has fully wrapped all four limbs around said pillow. Libertus is never going to believe him if he tells him this. Even if he provides photographic evidence.

Nyx then turns his gaze over to Ignis, who is rubbing at his eyes and yawning awake at the moment. “Nyx?” the Retainer asks muzzily.

“Yeah, kiddo, sorry if I woke you,” he says mutedly, skootching to the edge of the bed and reaching for his boots. Gods, he doesn’t even have time to change, not unless he wants to be so utterly late it’s not funny.

“No, it’s fine, my alarm’s set to go off soon, anyways,” Ignis says, sitting up. Nyx can see from the corner of his eye that Ignis is watching as he shoves his feet into his boots. “You’ve got your last test today, correct?”

“Yep, and if I don’t get going soon, the Marshall may eviscerate me,” Nyx says as he stands from the bed. He pauses and stretches slightly. “Huh. That weird concoction you made me drink actually did wonders,” he muses and rolls his shoulders. He doesn’t even have the normal achy sensation in the pit of his stomach that he often has to power through to get out of bed during his period.

Ignis seems to preen at the compliment. “Thank you, the mix has been in the family for over a century, though we have been trying to work around the after effects it causes. Shall I take it you won’t have time for breakfast?”

Nyx winces and moves towards the door after snagging his kukri sheathes off a low table set between two couches. “Yeah, here’s hoping that doesn’t shoot me in the foot today. I’m going to be inhaling everything in the cafeteria once we’re done, I just know it,” he mutters, and waves goodbye to Ignis. Hopefully the Marshall will understand that Nyx had been absconded with and will be merciful today.

Oh, who’s he kidding. It’s going to be hell on Eos. Again.

Nyx bolts through the halls of the Citadel, strapping his kukris in place as he goes, mentally cursing the fact that there are no straight lines in the stupidly big building, and barely manages to skid into the training room ten seconds before eight. “I’m here, I’m not late, please don’t kill me, I’m not- Your Majesty!” Nyx yelps, and quickly tries to straighten himself out.

King Regis stands in the center of the training room, looking highly amused with himself. “Hello, Sir Ulric. Ready for the final tests?”

“Uh,” Nyx glances between King Regis, Marshall Leonis, who stands just to the side of the room, and Lord Amicitia, who seems to have made himself at home in what looks like viewing seats in a back corner of the training room. “Yeah, I mean, of course, your Majesty. Whenever you’re ready.”

“Good,” Marshall Leonis deadpans. “Drop your kukri’s off with Clarus, you won’t be needing them immediately.”

“What? I need them for warping!” Nyx tries to argue, only to step back at the dry look Leonis gives him.

“Yes, and that will come after we ascertain your skills with the elemental magics. So, leave your kukri’s with Clarus and let’s get started.”

Nyx wilts slightly and trudges over to the stands, yanking his kukris out of their sheathes as he went. “Lord Amicitia,” Nyx mutters as he sets his precious kukri’s down.

“Sir Ulric,” the King’s Shield says, his voice amused. “Don’t worry. I won’t be mad if you manage to hit Regis once. Might actually commend you, if you manage it.”

Nyx eyes the Shield for a second, before he moves towards the center of the training area. He does not tense when a Shell is cast around the center area, and asks, “So, uh, how exactly are we testing my- Whoa!” Nyx dodges a fireball the size of his head a mere second before it whizzes past his ear and slams into the Shell.

“Why, how else, Sir Ulric?” The King looks far too pleased as he juggles three more fireballs in one hand, eerily reminiscent of when he was chewing Nyx out almost a week before. “A black mage duel. Here’s hoping you impress me.”

Shit. Looks like it was time to channel his inner pyromaniac that Crowe constantly puts to shame on a regular basis.

* * *

By the time the King is _finally_ done with him- after a full-on hour long black mage duel, another two hours testing his skill level with warping both in and out of combat, and King Regis actually going so far as to test if Nyx can draw elemental energy from a canister that _apparently_ has been in the training room the entire time (turns out it’s the King’s personal training room, so go figure)- Nyx is once more sore, wrung out, and just wants to devour an all-you-can-eat buffet before crashing into bed for a week. He isn’t even capable of resisting the King guiding him towards the Royal Family’s dining hall instead of letting Nyx go off to the Glaive cafeteria.

“I still cannot believe that you are not related to the line of Lucis,” King Regis mutters. “Your control is equal to ours, and yet you cannot draw upon the nodes. It’s utterly confusing.”

“Perhaps he’s only distant enough to accept the magic as if it’s his own? Let’s face it, the elemancy is restricted specifically to Lucis Caelum’s, even if the Armiger can be shared with others. Or it’s a side effect of his subconscious connection to Noctis,” Marshall Leonis replies.

Nyx definitely isn’t about to tell them that his father has a member of his family from the Liede region several generations back, especially considering his seven-times great Grandfather was noted to have amnesia before stumbling into the village. Nope, no sir, they don’t need to know about that.

And then Nyx’s attention is drawn away by familiar spice blends hanging in the air. He instinctively starts persistently sniffing, nose inching into the air. “Is that... Galahdan spices?” he mumbles, hope growing in his chest. Because that smells like proper Galahdan spice mixes, without substitutions, the good kind. Did... did Ignis approach that chef from yesterday? Oh, Nyx is salivating, it’s been so long since he’s had good Galahdan cooking he didn’t have to make or rely on Grandma Altius to make.

It seems the scent of the spices has a similar reaction in the King and Shield, because they both seem to perk up after a few sniffs at the air. “Oh, whoever convinced the chefs to make Galahdan food for lunch is going to get a raise,” King Regis says happily, his strides lengthening even if it pronounces his limp. “Perhaps I can finally convince the head chef to add it to the normal menu, it’s been far too long since I had any.”

“That’s because when the chefs tried to substitute ingredients it tasted horrible,” Lord Amicitia says as they enter the dining hall.

Nyx shudders in horror. “No, never substitute ingredients, someone’s great-grandmother will return from the Beyond and haunt you till the end of your days if you try. Though,” he takes an exaggerated sniff and nods, “we won’t have to worry about that. This smells like Northern Galahd’s spice mixes, they use more of the standard spices than us Southerners and the food tends to be sweeter.” He flushes at the raised eyebrows his comment receives. “What? Galahdan’s are really particular about our food!”

Before any of the three he’s been walking with say anything, a young voice calls out, “Nyx! Dad! Iggy convinced the cooks to try something new today!” A small, black haired blur attaches himself to Nyx’s leg, a wide grin stretching across the Prince’s youthful face. “Well, I guess it’s not new for you, Nyx, Iggy said that this is from your home, right? Something about wanting you to feel more comfortable after the tests Uncle Cor put you through.”

Something warm and fuzzy grows in Nyx’s chest hearing that, and he has to clear his throat before he feels comfortable answering. He doesn’t know what to do with this fluffy feeling, but he’s certain he shouldn’t be feeling it just because his soulmates want him to feel comfortable.[1] “I, ah, suppose I should thank him for that, then,” he manages to get out around the rock that lodged itself in his throat.

“Indeed,” King Regis says, amusement clear in his voice. “As I was just telling Sir Ulric, it has been many years since I last had Galahdan cooking, especially since the kitchens have not had the correct spices for many of the dishes. I’m glad Ignis managed to convince them to make this.”

Noctis brightens upon hearing that. “Oh, apparently there’s a Galahdan working in the kitchens now, we met her when she handed Nyx a bottle of some weird red sauce last night, she’s the one Iggy approached this morning. From what I could hear before I went to lessons, she was really happy to be making dishes from her homeland!”

“I see!” King Regis smiles at Noctis as they sit down at the table. Nyx can barely pay attention to what they’re doing, since all his attention is fixed on the food in front of them. “Well, let us hope this is as good as back in Galahd, yes?”

“Mhm!”

Nyx glances at the others at the table and decides ‘ _Fuck it_ ’. He reaches towards one of the platters, filled almost to the brim with sweet curry buns, and promptly begins filling his plate with them. He is never going to make fun of Crowe for devouring all the food after a mission, ever again. He’s fairly certain he wasn’t even this hungry back when he was a teenager.

Though just because he has food on the brain, doesn’t mean he’s not able to stop Noctis from eating a bowl of the soup set out. “Ah, no, that will blow the roof of your mouth off,” he says, setting the bowl next to his plate before placing two of the sweet curry buns onto Noctis’s. “There, that should get you used to a little heat.”

Noctis pouts. “Why can you have it but I can’t?”

Nyx grabs the bowl and points to some of the floating rings of hot peppers in the broth. “Do you see those? Libs and I used to have this dare growing up in the Canyons, we’d go out into the pepper fields and find the smallest one we could get our hands on and eat it. The smaller the hot pepper, the spicier it is. These are considered mild in comparison to some of the peppers I ate during those dares, and for the uninitiated, they are probably as spicy as they’ve ever put in their mouths.” Just to prove his point, Nyx forgoes manners and just starts drinking the soup straight from the bowl, managing to chug the whole thing down in thirty seconds. He licks his lips and sighs once he’s done, grinning at the shell-shocked look on Noctis’s face. “Don’t believe me? Try a spoonful of his Majesties, if he’ll let you.”

“You, Ulric, are some kind of masochist,” Marshall Leonis deadpans from across the table. “Also, I applaud you for that. Don’t do it again.”

“Of course, Marshall,” Nyx says, beaming as he sets the bowl down. “The soup’s not to my taste anyways.” He then promptly shoves a sweet bun into his mouth, to stop him from saying or doing anything else stupid.

* * *

**N: [Image embed of a dining table filled to the brim with Galahdan food] Okay, I might have actually lucked out. Scientia’s idea of ‘comfort’ after hellish testing by the Marshall.**

**C: WHAT??? Are you kidding me?! Ugh, Nyx, you asshole!**

**L: He’s only an asshole if he doesn’t bring us some of those curry buns.**

**P: Seconded.**

**P: Also, is it just me or does that look like it was cooked by a proper Galahdan?**

**N: It was. There’s someone working in the kitchens from Galahd.**

**N: She even let me borrow some of her ghost pepper sauce yesterday when dinner was too bland...**

**C: YOU BITCH!**

**P: Please introduce me???**

**L: Finally, someone in the Citadel with common fucking sense!**

**N: Oh, and apparently the King is a fan of our food. He practically started floating as soon as he smelled the spices in the air.**

**P: Wait. You had lunch... WITH THE KING?!**

**N: I was too tired and hungry to actually argue, okay???**

**N: Also, Crowe, I apologize for all those times I made fun of you for eating all the food.**

**C: ???**

**N: Black Mage Duel. Against the King. Followed by two hours of constant warping.**

**C: Oh, ouch! Yeah, you’ve got a hollow leg over there, Hero.**

**L: There aren’t gonna be any curry buns left, are there?**

**N: I make no promises.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] Nyx is such a dense little dork, isn’t he? XD
> 
> Thank you for reading! Comments and kudos are my lifeblood!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, guys. Starting to get into some touch-and-go subjects here. Not anything to the same level as what I have planned for later, but consider this a warning: Nyx is going to go through some shit from his fellow Glaive's, two in particular.

Gladio hums excitedly as he follows his Dad and Iris down the halls of the Citadel. He’s going to be meeting his Prince today! Dad decided that having Gladio meet Prince Noctis right before they began training might cause detrimental effects, so he’s allowing the two to meet about a week before!

Well. He’ll be meeting Prince Noctis and two of his soulmates. It hasn’t been announced publicly, nor will it be for a while, but Gladio knows that his Prince has met at least two of four soulmates, according to Dad. And both of them are supposed to be at dinner tonight.

He sniffs at the air, ignoring the weird tingling in his lower abdomen, and salivates at the heavy scent of spices. Oh, no wonder Dad brought them along. Amicitia’s have a shared love of spicy food, and this beats everything that Gladio’s ever had before. Is this the almost mythical Galahdan food Dad moans about at times? The ones where you need specific ingredients, otherwise they taste absolutely horrible? From the almost blissed out expression on Dad’s face, Gladio thinks that is what this is, and he can’t help the buzzing that forms under his skin at the thought.

Gladio perks up when he enters the dining room right behind Dad, eyes almost fixating on the dark head of hair that signifies his Prince as soon as he enters. The tingling sharpens as the Prince looks up and locks eyes with Gladio, forcing the young Shield to grimace and hold onto the area- right over his... Soul... Mark.

Amber eyes widen as Prince Noctis looks from Gladio hand to the gloved forearm, and the Prince tears the glove off, to the vocal displeasure of the blonde next to him. “Noctis! What do you think you are-“

“The shield colored in, Iggy! Look!”

Gladio breathes through his nose as his mark pangs again upon the blonde meeting his eyes. The blonde, likely Prince Noctis’s Retainer Ignis Scientia, stills for a moment, before his hand flies up to the back of his neck, a grimace setting into his features. “Well. This is... unexpected.”

The black haired adult groans and leans back in his seat, hands rubbing over his face roughly. “Great, another kid,” the man mutters, before glancing over his shoulder at Gladio and wincing. He shifts in his seat and adds, “Yup, I’m gonna be dragged by the press and nobles for this. Ah, shoot.”

Iris catches on faster than Gladio does, apparently, because she giggles and grabs hold of his hands as she tries to drag him into a twirl. “Gladdy found three of his soulmates! Yay!”

(Gladio does not yelp, and he will deny it to his dying day, no matter what Nyx teases, or video evidence Prompto supplies.)

In the background of Iris’s celebration, the King smugly informs Dad, “You owe me twenty gil, Clarus.”

Gladio turns betrayed eyes towards Dad, who grumbles but hands over the requested money to the King. “One day, I will win one of our bets,” Dad says glaring down at the King, who smiles benignly.

“Then perhaps you should not make losing bets all the time.”

Gladio’s attention jerks away from Dad and the King as Iris drags him over to the other three at the table- his soulmates, apparently. He numbly sits in the seat next to the other adult at the table and shifts his gaze between the three of them. The Prince and Retainer Scientia, he knows a little about. And he remembers Dad talking about one of the King’s Glaives being found as the Prince’s soulmate, and only adults are allowed into the Kingsglaive, so it stands to reason that the adult’s the Glaive. And the Glaive’s are supposed to be elites, supposed to be honorable, so while he doesn’t know much about this Glaive, he can at least trust him not to hurt either Gladio or Iris.

This thought solidifies when the Glaive reaches forward and takes a bowl right out from the Prince’s hand. “Ah, ah, you’re not getting that until you can stand the Northern dishes, little Prince,” the Glaive says, steel eyes twinkling slightly. “Once you can stand something with jalapeno’s in it, then you can start working up to the ghost peppers.”

The Prince pouts. “But, Nyx, why does Dad and Uncle Clarus get some of it, then?”

“Because they have already had proper Galahdan food and can handle the heat, while this would no doubt burn your nasal passages before you even manage to get the spoon in your mouth. I explained this to you yesterday,” the Glaive, Nyx, retorts as he sets the bowl down next to his plate. He pushes a platter a little closer to Prince Noctis. “Here, I’m fairly certain these are those curry buns you liked so much.”

Gladio relaxes and reaches for a nearby platter so he can fill his and Iris’s plates. He practically perks up when he notices that the platter’s full of his favorite sort of food (besides his secret comfort food): skewers.

As Gladio happily fills his plate, and Iris’s, Prince Noctis turns his attention back to his future Shield. “I’m Noct, the crystal, this is Iggy, he’s the dagger, and that’s Nyx, he’s the kukri. You’re Gladio, right?” The older boy nods, unsure where the Prince is trying to get at. “Do you have any favorite games you like to play?”

Out of all the potential avenues of conversation, this one takes Gladio the most by surprise. “I, ah, don’t exactly have a lot of time for games,” he says as he rubs the back of his neck. “I’ve got my training, and homework, and looking after Iris...”

Nyx snorts. “Sheesh, I remember that. Selena had been a handful at her age,” he commiserates, nodding towards the cheerfully eating Iris. “Add that on top of learning to be a hunter and compulsory schooling, and I was beat almost every day.”

This, apparently, does not deter Prince Noctis. “Well, then do you have a favorite book? That’s the one hobby I have that Iggy won’t nag me about too much.”

Retainer Scientia huffs and pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Reading is an important step in learning, especially eloquence and word play. Things that are required of a Prince, I should remind you.”

“Yeah, well how do you know that playing video games can’t teach me all that?”

Gladio fights back a giggle as Nyx rolls his eyes and looks at him. “And think,” he says drily, “we’re stuck with these two. Just wait until they start arguing over the necessity of eating vegetables, then we’re in for a real show.”

“Necessity of vegetables?” Gladio parrots, mind shrieking as flashbacks of Iris’s stubborn phase hit him like a freight train.

Nyx just claps Gladio’s shoulder lightly, before pointing at something on Iris’s plate. “Say, how much heat can she handle right now? Because I’m fairly certain not even I started eating that until seven or eight dares with Libs passed back when I was ten.”

Gladio blinks, before he looks at the food item in question. “Uh, I actually don’t know. Everyone in our family likes spicy food, but Dad usually restricts Iris because of her age…”

“Lord Amicitia, would you mind if I removed something that definitely has ghost peppers, and lots of them, off your daughter’s plate, before she burns her tongue from the capsaicin?”

Dad looks up, takes one look at what’s on Iris’s plate, and pales further than Gladio has ever seen him. “If you wouldn’t mind, Sir Ulric? _I_ can barely handle that particular dish.”

Gladio gets the feeling, as he leans back so Nyx can grab Iris’s plate after giving her one of those curry buns in appeasement, that his life’s going to be a lot more interesting now that he’s met his soulmates.

* * *

Nyx slumps in his bar chair and pouts at his beer bottle. Oh, how he just wants to drown his angst in alcohol, but his training with the Marshall properly starts up in the morning, so he’s _trying_ to restrain himself.

Which are pretty false words, considering this is his second bottle and he already has a nice buzz going.

He jumps as a hand smacks his back, and turns his gaze up towards Libertus, who slides into the seat next to him. “Jeez, Hero, you look even more like shit than the last time I saw you,” Libs says, shaking his head in bemusement. “What gives?”

Nyx mutters nonsense before taking a deep drag from his beer. Six, he really needs to get drunk... “I found my third soulmate yesterday,” Nyx blithely states, slumping further in on himself. He doesn’t even flinch as Crowe settles into the seat next to him, despite her being too young to actually drink alcohol yet.

“Already? Dang, Ulric, you’re a lucky bastard, aren’t you?” Crowe states, no doubt grinning wide at the admission. “So, who’s it? Someone we know?”

“’Nother noble. Lord Amicitia’s son,” Nyx mumbles, just loud enough for his friends to hear him, but not enough for it to travel in the rowdy bar they’re in. He wilts even further, just toying with his beer at this point. “Shit, Crowe, he’s eleven, for Titan’s sake. And the Prince’s Shield to boot.” He sighs pathetically and takes another drag of beer. “I can’t even get drunk properly,” he mutters petulantly. “The Marshall’s likely to have my balls if I show up tomorrow with a hangover.”

“Wait, wait, what’s this I hear?” an entirely unwanted voice crows from right behind Nyx. The young man grimaces as Tredd Furia leans against the bar top between Nyx and Crowe, the red head grinning sharply. “Nyxie found himself some noble soulmates? How impressive, for one of us Galahdan rats.”

“Shut the fuck up, Tredd,” Libertus snaps.

“What? Can’t congratulate a fellow Glaive on his catch?” Nyx doesn’t even need to look Tredd in the eye to know he has a shark-like grin on his smug face. “Well, actually it’s more like give my condolences. Not like they’d actually ever care about him, anyways.”

Nyx wilts further over his drink, his thoughts caught in a depressive swirl, because Tredd is giving voice to his own doubts. It’s been a dream of his ever since he received his Mark to eventually fall in love with and marry his soulmates, maybe carry one of their kids if he really felt like it, but with how young Noctis, Ignis, and Gladio are... Well, he’ll have to pray to Shiva that their final soulmate is closer to his own age if he ever wants that end. Besides, what could he even provide to this mate-ship, anyways, besides an older brother figure to those three and a Captain for Noctis? All he’s good for is his combat prowess and a longer life experience than the others.

Crowe’s snarl of, “You really want to start on that with a black mage at your back, Tredd?” manages to snap Nyx out of his downward spiral enough to glance to his right. Crowe has Tredd’s shoulder in a tight grip, her fingertips lightly smoking from how angry she no doubt is on Nyx’s behalf.

Tredd scoffs and shrugs Crowe off. “Seriously, I’m just making sure he doesn’t get too caught up in daydreams. No one up in the Citadel cares about us rats here in the Immigrant District, soulmate or not.”

“And you know better than to attack someone about their soulmates,” Libertus growls, rising from his seat and no doubt stalking forward like a particularly pissed coeurl. “Markless or not.”

“Guys, just... enough,” Nyx mutters, reaching over to grab Libertus’s shoulder. He meets Crowe’s furious eyes and shakes his head. Luckily, it’s enough to get both his friends to calm down, though they still glare mutinously at Tredd.

“Yeah, whatever, Ostium,” Tredd states. “Like I need a soulmate, anyways. Just don’t expect sympathy from me when those noble shits Ulric ended up with prove I’m right.” And with that, he finally leaves the trio alone.

Nyx sighs and slugs back the last of his beer, happy that at least that asshole is gone. No doubt it would have been worse if Luche had been present as well, but Nyx doesn’t let himself dwell on the thought. Especially since his friends seem dead set on reassuring him of the opposite.

“Seriously, just fuck that guy, Nyx,” Crowe says, knocking their shoulders together. “From your texts the past couple days, those kids adore you.”

“Tch, yeah, not like Tredd would know jack shit about soulmates anyways,” Libertus growls, skootching closer to Nyx in his seat, close enough that Nyx can literally feel the heat coming off his friend.

He shakes his head and sighs. “No, no he’s... you two know about what I’ve always wanted out of this mess. C’mon, can you really see that happening now? Three of my soulmates are a decade younger than me, at least.” He fingers the neck of his bottle, wishing he can just drown his sorrows and try to forget them, at least for the night.

Libertus proves to be as able to read Nyx as ever, because he catches the bartender’s attention and waves a finger between himself and Nyx. “Shots for the two of us, whatever’s drinkable on the bottom shelf, and a Virgin Mary for her.”

“Libs,” Nyx groans, leaning back in his chair. “I really can’t drink that much tonight.”

“Please,” Libertus scoffs and jerks his chin towards Crowe. “She’ll be the sober one of the three of us, no doubt she can warn Grandma that you’ll need the hangover cure in the morning. You, Hero, need to get properly drunk, ASAP, if only to keep you from sinking into depression. Again.”

Nyx tries to hold out, but as soon as the shot glass is set in front of him he folds like a house of cards. “Fine,” he groans, reaching for the shot.

He’s so going to regret this in the morning...

* * *

Cor raises an eyebrow at the state Ulric is in when he arrives five minutes till six the next morning for his official start of training. The man is clearly hungover, if those squinted eyes and wincing look are any indication. What sort of idiot goes on a drinking binge right before training?

Before Cor can start telling Ulric off, the Glaive holds up a hand. “Just, give me five minutes, Marshall. The hangover cure should take effect by then, and I’ll be at your disposal with no issues.”

Cor doesn’t believe it for a second but makes sure Ulric can’t tell that.

At least, until five minutes pass, and Ulric suddenly blinks and looks like he’s drunk eight cans of Ebony in a row within five minutes, energetic bouncing and all. Nothing like the clearly hungover dead-eyed Glaive that stepped into the training room five minutes before. “What the fuck?” slips out of Cor’s mouth before his mind can catch it.

Ulric _grins_ and bounces on his toes. “Hangover cure. Secret recipe, can’t share it with you. So, what’re we starting with today, Marshall?”

Cor mentally curses Ulric for not sharing that secret, because some days he needs to drink to deal with how much shit he goes through, but again does not let Ulric catch a hint of what is going through his mind. Instead, he says, “We’re starting with ranged weapons, since that’s clearly the one area you’re lacking in from what I saw during your tests.”

Ulric blinks and actually stops bouncing. “Ah, ranged weapons? The Glaive doesn’t exactly use those,” he carefully enunciates each word, as if trying to process why he needs to learn how to use one.

Cor can’t actually believe this is what he has to work with.

“Which makes your attacks predictable, to a point,” Cor deadpans. “A well-rounded fighter can use both close and long-range weaponry, and I do mean weaponry and not just magic.” His voice sharpens at the end when Ulric opens his mouth again. Cor takes pleasure in the sharp snap of Ulric’s jaw closing. “So, we’ll be figuring out what ranged weapon you can use and begin your training there.” He waves over to the four benches filled with various weaponry, sorted by basic type, that line the firing course. He’s honestly surprised that Ulric hadn’t seen this coming, since Cor had texted him to meet him in one of the shooting ranges, but clearly Cor’s nephew is stuck with a somewhat dense idiot for a soulmate.

And Cor has to whip this boy into a mostly-decent officer. In six months.

Oh, Astrals, grant him patience.

“Just so you know,” Ulric says as he hesitantly approaches the benches, “the last time I held a gun, I nearly shot my own foot off. And almost killed Libs. With the same bullet. It’s actually how we met, see...”

Cor barely fought against groaning. “I honestly could care less right now, Ulric,” he drily states, following along a step closer than he initially planned considering the declaration the Glaive has given.

“Honestly, I was seven, dumb, and stupid at the time. And the only member of my family who could actually shoot well enough to still be a successful hunter died when I was, like, five,” Ulric keeps rambling, causing a sinking sensation in the pit of Cor’s stomach. “You sure you want me to even be looking at these things?”

“I’m hoping that age has granted you better aim,” Cor says as he crosses his arms. “Now, go on. Pick a table.” Cor watches as Ulric shrugs and strides closer to the bench filled with various machinery. Cor fights a wince as Ulric reaches for a bioblaster Cor specifically remembers breaking in a way that it would explode in your face if not correctly fixed, and steps forward. “Alright, not that one.”

Ulric blinks at Cor, clearly confused, and asks, “Uh, why not?”

“You didn’t even think to check and make sure the thing wouldn’t take your arm off, or explode the second you pulled the trigger,” Cor states, glaring slightly at Ulric, who looks sick to his stomach at the thought.

“What?!”

“Machinery is very dangerous to handle, and it can easily break, which means that the person using it has to be able to _fix it_ , even with sub-standard materials. And those things have _tiny_ pieces and mechanisms in them,” Cor explains as calmly as he can, though it comes out rather terse and harsh. He takes a deep breath, before he shakes his head. “We often purposefully tamper with the machinery in order to test the rookies on their observation and repairing skills. Clearly that type of weaponry isn’t going to be suited to you.”

Ulric easily concedes to that explanation, though he still looks sick. “Okay, that makes sense, in a twisted sort of way,” he mutters as he steps up to the bench filled with various pistols. Cor is pleased when Ulric doesn’t automatically reach for one like he had before; instead, he assesses the selection before him with a surprisingly critical eye for someone entirely untrained in how to use a pistol and grabs a simple revolver model off the table. It’s an older model, however Ulric manages to go through some basic safety checks with some rust-dulled ease.

“How is it,” Cor muses, “that you can go through the basic safety checks of a pistol- which you admit you have nearly committed accidental manslaughter with at the age of seven- but you can’t tell when a piece of machinery is broken?”

Ulric shrugs easily. “Mom wouldn’t let me even think about trying to shoot my Uncle’s gun that I inherited before I could do this in my sleep. After, well... it was kinda locked away, and has probably been claimed by the Galahdan jungles, along with what’s left of the village,” Ulric mutters the last part, and Cor acts as if he doesn’t hear him.

He’s read Ulric’s file, recalls all the reports on the destruction of Galahd. It was unfortunate that they had been unable to do anything to protect the island nation except grant the survivors a place in Insomnia, but clearly it has left other, invisible marks on those survivors. Ulric’s PTSD being a prime example of that. Cor just wonders if Ulric has ever gone to get it treated in some way.

Then he has no time to wonder as Ulric walks over to the next bench, where a target has been set up fifteen feet down the firing lane. Cor figures that directing Ulric towards the sniper range may have been a bit overreactive, however considering what lays on the other two benches, and how terrible Ulric’s stance is with that pistol, they may just need the space. Either that, or Cor will have to convince Regis to let him drag Ulric out of the city for a couple weeks, or an entire month, just to get him accustomed to his new weapon in a proper fight. Not the front lines, but a couple hunts surely wouldn’t hurt...

_BANG!_

Cor blinks once. Twice. Turns his incredulous gaze towards Ulric, who looks rather shaken having just shot the revolver. “...well. I think you might have hit the far wall,” Cor drawls, eyeing the completely untouched target still down the firing lane. Honestly, how did Ulric even miss it that badly...? With a mental headshake, Cor says, “Disarm it and move on to the next one.”

“Yes, sir,” Ulric squeaks out.

The crossbow garners almost the same end as the pistol had. Cor has to give Ulric some credit, the bolt at least nicks the target paper, instead of missing it entirely. However, it is rather clear that Ulric is in no way comfortable with it. Perhaps due to the fact that the firing mechanism is so similar to that of a pistol? Hm, looks like they’re going entirely old school with this Glaive.

Cor hands over a short bow and quiver, and winces as he watches Ulric’s once-more horrid posture holding that bow. Except, unlike the last two times, Ulric actually manages to get the arrow through the paper.

...it’s the lower right-hand corner of the paper, but still. Better than previously.

Ulric takes a second and adjusts his stance slightly, impressing Cor as the Glaive is already attempting to adjust into the proper stance and arm placements despite not knowing them. The next arrow is much the same as the last, in the upper-left corner this time, except it is just the slightest bit closer to the target than before. Once more, Ulric adjusts his stance before taking aim.

The arrow pierces the paper a hairs breath away from the outer ring of the target.

Cor sighs. “Well, I can work with this,” he admits, not noticing that Ulric is once more drawing the bow back, arrow nocked and an odd furrow in his brow. “Range is now cold, put down your-“

The crystalline shatter of a warp rings through the air immediately after the _twang_ of the bow string, and Cor is glaring at Ulric where he appears halfway down the firing lanes, one hand holding the arrow he shot while the other grips the short bow tightly. “Huh. So, that does work,” Ulric says, a grin starting to work up his lips.

A loud cough catches Ulric’s attention once more, and Cor glowers at the _overgrown man-child_ before him. “If you’re quite done, Sir Ulric,” Cor clips out, which makes Ulric shrink in on himself. “I will set up new targets for you to cycle through. You will then shoot until I tell you to stop. Am I understood?”

Ulric visibly swallows and hastens to nod. “Yes, sir.”

“Then get your ass back over here so I can set up those targets.”

* * *

Noctis looks up from his discussion with Gladio over a fantasy novel they both have read and gasps. Nyx stumbles through the door with a grimace, though he is quick to paste on a smile for the duo. Noctis isn’t fooled, considering how tired and beat Nyx looks, and bolts up from his seat on the floor. “Nyx, what happened?” he asks as he runs up to his soulmate’s side, blue eyes staring worriedly up at the Glaive.

Nyx chuckles and ruffles Noctis’s hair with a heavy hand. “Just... a hard day’s training, that’s all, little Prince. The Marshall’s started me on a new weapon, so I have to adjust to it.”

Noctis hesitates but nods his understanding. “Okay,” he says, and grabs Nyx’s hand. “C’mon, you can rest here with us! Gladio and I were just discussing the recent King’s Knight novel, have you read the series?”

Nyx huffs a laugh and lets Noctis tug him towards the couch. “Not recently. Most of my collection got burnt up with my village in Galahd.”

Gladio reaches out to drag Nyx down between the Prince and Shield on the couch, a grin on his face. “I didn’t take you for a King’s Knight fan,” Gladio says as he tilts his head. Noctis shifts closer into Nyx’s side and hides a frown at how tense Nyx is.

“My... my sister was more the fan between the two of us,” Nyx says, his voice pained. “I mostly read them to try and understand what she’d ramble about.”

Noctis makes an apologetic sound and nuzzles closer to Nyx. Gladio looks upset that he brought it up. “Oh. Sorry...”

Nyx sighs and ruffles Gladio’s hair. “It’s not your fault, kiddo. You didn’t know.”

“Well,” Noctis slowly says, gaining the other two’s attention. “Maybe we could, I dunno, get to know one another better, then? I mean, we kinda only just met recently, ‘cept me and Iggy, so shouldn’t that be something we focus on for now?”

“What, like twenty questions, little Prince?” Nyx asks, and Noctis does frown at the tired sarcasm he hears in the Glaive’s voice.

Even Gladio’s frowning now. “Okay, what’s wrong, really? This is more than learning a new weapon. You’re upset about something,” the Shield states, shifting so he can look at Nyx fully.

Noctis glances over to the door as Ignis steps inside, just as Nyx says, “It’s nothing, really. No need to worry ‘bout me.”

“Clearly that is a lie,” Ignis says, announcing his presence to the other two as he fiddles with a plate full of cookies. “And I don’t even know what the problem is, yet. Noct, skootch over.”

Noctis understood what Ignis wants him to do, and maneuvers himself onto Nyx’s lap, ignoring his surprised squeak as he settles against his chest. “C’mon, you can tell us, Nyx,” Noctis says, eyes wide as he stares up at Nyx pleadingly.

Nyx falters, and sighs as Ignis sits down where Noctis had been. “Really, it’s...” Nyx’s eyes drift off to the side, a faraway look in them. Quietly, he says, “Just some comments from an idiot in the Glaive who couldn’t keep his mouth shut last night while I was out with Libs and Crowe. They’ve been... getting to me, is all.”

Gladio pushes, “What sort of comments?”

Nyx’s mouth twists, eyes glancing from Noctis looking worried, Gladio’s wary curiosity, and Ignis’s more stoic worry that Noctis knows usually precedes some rather cutting comments and actions. Finally, their oldest soulmate relents, slumping and letting his arms circle around Noctis. “He just tried saying you three wouldn’t actually care about me, because you guys are nobles and I’m just a refugee soldier nobody,” he mutters into Noctis’s hair. “I know he’s a jerk, but I just...”

“You can’t get the words out of your head,” Ignis quietly finishes for Nyx, who nods. Noctis shifts so he’s kneeling in Nyx’s lap, and he wraps his arms around the Glaive’s neck in a hug. Gladio makes a hurt noise and burrows into Nyx’s side, his arms slipping under Noctis to hug around Nyx’s waist. Ignis, always more reserved than anyone Noctis has ever known, sets the plate down and shifts closer, leaning into Nyx’s other side. “I would say he is wrong, however something tells me the reason you can’t get rid of what he said is because you’re worried it will come true,” Ignis carefully says, and Noctis whimpers as Nyx tenses. Ignis places a hand on Noctis’s back, which is the only reason why the Prince doesn’t vocalize how incorrect the thought is, and the blonde continues, “Considering how recently we found each other, and that we’re still missing a member, these are logical worries, though unfounded. We’ll try our best to prove them wrong to you.”

Noctis buries his face in Nyx’s neck as the Glaive looks over at Ignis, sniffling lightly. “Y-you’re sure?” he asks, making Noctis’s heart break at how small and lost the oldest of them sounds at that moment.

“I promise,” Ignis answers without hesitation, determination in his voice.

“Yeah, we’ll make this work, you’ll see,” Gladio pipes up. “I mean, Dad and his Majesty thought they were platonic soulmates for years until they got their heads out of their butts, Dad’s words, not mine. And besides, we’re kids, we’ve got time to prove to you that we’re not going anywhere.”

Noctis pulls back as Nyx winces. Small hands frame a strong jaw, and Noctis stays quiet until Nyx meets his eyes. “That’s the other problem, isn’t it?” Noctis whispers. “The age differences. You brought it up a lot of times already.”

Nyx tries to stay strong, it’s obvious he doesn’t want to keep talking about it, but he caves just as easily. “I just... it’ll reflect badly, on the royal line, if one of the Prince’s soulmates is twelve years older than him. Not to mention how the gossip rags are going to try and twist this, or how the Glaive’s will react when they find out...” Nyx’s eyes drop as he mutters, “I don’t want to cause you guys any grief because of it.”

Noctis shakes his head, a small smile on his lips. “If there’s one thing I remember from my history books, it’s that some of the Old King’s have had two or three decades between them and their soulmates, in either direction, and not all of them remained platonic. A lot of them married those soulmates. I checked them after you first brought it up.” Noctis presses his forehead against Nyx’s and closes his eyes. “It’ll be fine. Like Gladio said, we’ve got time to figure things out.” Noctis brushes his thumbs against Nyx’s cheeks, like Dad would do when comforting Noctis, and wipes away the tears he feels there.

If none of them left the impromptu cuddle pile until dinner, well, clearly the eldest needs a lot of comforting from the younger trio. Besides, they’ve still got to really learn more about each other.

* * *

Nyx is taking his lunch in the Glaive breakroom, head throbbing from all the various laws and protocols Elsheart shoved down his throat during training that morning, when a hand slams onto the table in front of Nyx. His eyes jerk up to the furious Tredd, who hisses, “You fucking ratted me out, Ulric? Over something miniscule as off-duty heckling?”

“What are you talking about, Tredd?” Nyx asks, a sinking feeling forming in his stomach. No, no don’t tell him they said anything...

“I’m stuck in remedial lessons because of you! On the _importance_ of soulmates and the unspoken boundaries when dealing with them,” Tredd snarls. “The fucking King ordered me into remedial lessons, citing that damn conversation in the bar! You ratted me out to the King and don’t even try to deny it!”

Nyx stands up and puts his hands out in front of him, ignoring how sick he’s feeling at the unfortunate confirmation he’s received. “Whoa, listen, I might not like you much, Tredd, but I wouldn’t bring this to the King,” he says, hoping to calm the furious Glaive down.

“Maybe not to the King, but a damned bitch like you no doubt would have spilled to your _noble soulmates_ , wouldn’t you?” Tredd’s sneer cuts Nyx to the quick. “Then again, when one of them is the fucking _Prince of Lucis_ , I suppose it’s just as bad as telling the King. Six, you’re so pathetic, Ulric. I mean, your soulmate isn’t just a noble, but a _kid_ on top of it! I wouldn’t be surprised if the other two you’ve got are in the same boat!”

Nyx struggles to keep his breathing under control as their argument quickly becomes the center of attention. “Alright, yes, one of my soulmates is the Prince,” he admits. “And yes, I might have mentioned that _a Glaive_ made some comments about them not caring about me because of our social standings, but I gave no names. At all. Not even the name of the bar we were at when you made them. I have no idea how the King found out about it, alright? So just, calm down, yeah?”

“Calm down? Calm down?! You want me to calm the fuck down, Ulric?” Tredd steps into Nyx’s space and pushes hard on his shoulders. Nyx makes himself go with it, taking a step back to stabilize himself. “Why don’t you fucking make me calm down, you fucking Lucian dog!”

Nyx remains passive, waving his thunderous looking friends down before he meets Tredd’s eyes just before another shove. “Tredd, fighting over this won’t change anything except give you longer Citadel duty, and you know it. So calm down now, before something bad happens.”

Nyx never thought he’d ever be happy for Luche to step in the middle of a fight, but he can’t help the relief that floods his chest when the blonde grabs hold of Tredd and pulls him back. “Tredd, can it before the Captain shows up, alright?” Of course, Luche has to throw salt on the wounds, because he adds, “Besides, you said it yourself. Ulric’s got himself nobles and kids for soulmates. No doubt he’ll end up with a Nif as his last soulmate on top of it all.”

As the two assholes walk off, Tredd steaming and glaring death at Nyx, it’s like his stomach falls through the floor. Astrals, he- His eyes jerk over the rest of the Glaive, all of whom are staring at him with a variety of different expressions. They just- he just admitted-

He has to go.

Uncaring of his leftover lunch, Nyx bolts from the Kingsglaive break room, heart constricting in his chest and shame bubbling in his stomach.

* * *

Noctis gets the feeling like he shouldn’t have told Dad about the incident Nyx brought up when the Glaive starts avoiding him and the others. So, Noctis decides to visit the Glaive under punishment for the comments he made during his remedial lessons.

The instructor happily allows Noctis to sit in on the lesson for the day after he explains why he’s there, and Noctis spends most of it watching the red-haired Glaive Dad said had been the one who hurt Nyx by targeting Noctis, Ignis, and Gladio. He can see why Nyx called this Sir Furia a jerk, he looks like one.

Noctis waits to approach Sir Furia until the class is over, where he stands from the seat in the back he’d taken and strides as regally as he can over to Sir Furia’s seat. He waits patiently for Sir Furia to finish grumbling and gathering his things, and he manages to keep his expression as neutral as he is capable of when the man glances up and notices him.

“Your Highness,” Sir Furia faux-delicately says, eyes glaring holes into Noctis. “I hadn’t realized you were in the room.”

“Yes, well, you never know what you’ll learn from new teachers,” Noctis blithely states, before he channels Ignis and goes straight to the point. “I know you blamed Nyx for this punishment of yours. He’s been even more despondent recently, and he’s been pulling away from us more and more.”

Sir Furia barely withholds the snort he so clearly wants to make. “And what would it matter to your Highness if his Galahdan dog starts ignoring him?” he asks with a sneer, clearly oblivious to the startled looks he’s receiving from some of the other students.

Noctis can barely keep his expression from twisting with rage. Galahdan dog?! “Because _I_ told his Majesty of the incident,” Noctis sharply says. “He had Marshall Cor look into Nyx’s whereabouts that night, and managed to receive permission from the bar’s owner to look at the security feeds, which included audio. You’re lucky to only be going through these remedial classes and Citadel duty for your words, instead of charges of slander against the Royal Family. Nyx had nothing to do with it.”

Sir Furia doesn’t even bother trying to stop the snort this time. “Right. Well, thank you for needlessly clearing that up, your Highness. If you’ll excuse me, I have a shift in twenty minutes. Unlike some people, I can’t just waste time standing around doing nothing for hours on end.”

Noctis lets Sir Furia leave, fuming with rage. No wonder Nyx has been acting so badly! That Sir Furia’s even worse than a jerk! And what was up with that comment he made about Nyx being a dog? It’s like Sir Furia fully believes that Noctis doesn’t even view Nyx as a person!

The nine-year-old leaves the room shaking with restrained fury. He marches straight for the training room Uncle Cor requisitioned for Nyx’s training for the day, and immediately moves so he can burrow into Nyx’s body without getting in the way of his shooting.

“Uh, little Prince?” Nyx asks, clearly confused by Noctis’s actions and likely wary about accidentally hurting Noct.

He shakes his head and mutters, “I’m sorry that me just wanting to help ended up with him getting mad at you, Nyx. I was just trying to help...”

Nyx hesitates, no doubt glancing over at Uncle Cor for permission to pause training, before he sets the bow down and turns around. Noctis lets him, and waits until Nyx kneels down before pouncing forwards and wrapping his arms around Nyx’s neck. “It’s alright, kiddo, you didn’t know,” Nyx mutters, pressing a gentle kiss into Noctis’s hair. “Tredd and I have never really gotten along all that well, and it’s doubtful the Glaive doesn’t know the full truth about my reassignment. Them finding out that we’ve got matching Soul Marks was going to happen sooner or later, and like you said, you were just trying to help in the only way you knew how. I don’t blame you for what happened.”

Noctis sniffles, but still feels terrible.

At least Nyx starts sticking around more often again. That means Nyx forgave him... right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's hoping you guys enjoyed it!
> 
> Comments and kudos are my lifeblood, alongside caffeine!


	4. Chapter 4

Nyx is fairly certain he’s never been so overworked in his life. He’s confident enough with the bow to consider himself a semi-competent archer at this point, mostly because his arms aren’t wanting to fall off after hours spent drawing a fifty-pound draw bow, and the Marshall seems to think the same, since they’ve moved on to his dagger work and only touch his archery once a week now, instead of three times in a single week like the past month and a half. Of course, that’s not to say he’s only been working with the Marshall all this time; Elsheart has had her hand in his training, mostly in strategy and paperwork but he’s also had several lessons in battlefield medicine outside of potions and about a week where Leonis was missing so she took over his physical training as well, along with a scattering of sessions with the King regarding his magic. He’s also been helping Gladio out with Noctis’s training over the weekend, while slowly getting a feel for how differently the Prince’s magic feels in comparison to the King’s. However, all of this tends to mean that he’s out like a light in the Kingsglaive barracks until his alarm goes off in the morning. Not even his nightmares have cropped up more than twice, and he’s become rather adept at maintaining an apathetic demeanor whenever the Glaive’s start giving him weird looks or sneers.

Which means he is highly annoyed and aggravated when Crowe wakes him up in the middle of the night. He'd only just gotten to sleep two hours ago, couldn't this wait until the morning?

At least, initially he was pissed. Once Nyx gets a proper look at her, he gets worried. “What’s wrong? Did something happen?” he asks in a rush, partially sitting up.

Crowe fiddles with the very, very thick stack of papers in her hands, her nerves plainly written on her face. “Yeah, you could say that,” Crowe slowly admits. She then sighs and shoves the papers at Nyx. “The landlord’s trying to evict you.”

“What?!” he yelps, shooting up into a sitting position only to slam his head into the bunk above him. “Ow! He shouldn’t be, I’ve been keeping up with my payments to keep the apartment,” he hisses in a rush, taking the papers out of Crowe’s hands.

“Yeah, well, apparently the asshole’s found someone who’s willing to pay double the rent you’re currently paying. The notice he left says you’ve gotta show up within the week, otherwise you’re breaking your lease and your possessions are forfeit,” Crowe harshly snaps.

Nyx groans. “No, I won’t have the time! Leonis has me packed with training almost every day, and I’m going to be switching over to his Highness’s magic this weekend! I can’t get down there in time!” He flips through the papers, which prove to not only be the eviction notice but his lease and their agreement, which includes all the areas that his landlord claims he’s “breaking lease”, despite the agreement to act as if he’s on an extended mission. “I’m gonna have to break in,” he says with absolute conviction. “I’m going to have to break in and steal all my stuff back.”

“If you won’t have time to argue your case, you won’t have time to break in, idiot,” Crowe grouses, before she shoves something else into his arms. “Also, I grabbed this out of your apartment before I headed over for my shift.”

One look at the soft adorable Marlboro plush has Nyx hissing. “Why did you bring him here, no one is supposed to know of Marlboro-kun!”

Crowe scoffs. Loudly. “Oh, please, EVERYONE knows of Marlboro-kun, you great dork.”

As if to solidify her statement, his bunkmate swings his front half down to glare blearily at Nyx from the other side of the bunk. “Everyone knows about Marlboro-kun, Ulric. Now shut up and let the rest of us sleep, damn it.”

Nyx flushes a painful shade of red, but grumbles and cuddles Marlboro-kun close to his chest.

Crowe rolls her eyes and stands. “Look, I’ve got shift tonight, and Grandma made sure to make me some of her Caffeine Shake for the morning. Whatever you need, I’ll try and help you out with it, alright?”

Something in Nyx’s chest melts at her offer, and he gives Crowe a kind, sleepy smile. “Thanks, Crowe. I owe you one.”

“You owe me more than just one, Hero,” Crowe says, and she reaches out to ruffle Nyx’s hair, as if she’s the elder of the two of them. “Get some more sleep, we’ll try and plot this out in the morning.”

Nyx nods and lays back down as Crowe leaves, despondency unfurling in his chest. Great. He’s likely to lose his apartment and all of his possessions by the end of the week. What the crap can he do? It’s not like the Marshall will just give him a day off to sort all this out!

...will he?

* * *

Cor stares from the sheepish looking Ulric, to the almost buzzing Altius. “You want me to give you a day off,” Cor deadpans.

Ulric nods his head. “Yes, sir.”

“With no prior warning.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And without telling me _why?_ ” Cor crosses his arms and raises an eyebrow at Ulric’s wince.

“...yes, sir?”

Cor stares judgmentally at Ulric for a minute, making the Glaive Captain-to-be squirm, before he turns a look at Altius. “Do those papers you have there have to do with why he’s asking for time off training?” Cor asks drily, pointing at the rather thick file Altius holds.

Ulric stiffens as Altius nods her head. “Yes sir,” Altius says as she steps forward and holds the file out. “This is an eviction notice, our landlord put it up on Nyx’s door just yesterday, along with a copy of his lease and the agreement they created so Nyx could keep the apartment during his training sessions here.”

“Crowe,” Ulric hisses as Cor takes the file.

“Really?” Cor asks, eyebrow jutting up further at the information. “Have you been keeping up with your payments, Ulric?”

Ulric swallows and nods his head. “Rent and a half plus utilities monthly. That was the agreement we came up with, since it’s what we usually use for long-term assignments in the Glaive.”

Cor frowns. “Rent and a half? It should only be the full rent and utilities, nothing extra,” he says, and looks down at the file in his hand with great interest. Before either Galahdan can take the file from him, which from the way they tense means they were planning to, Cor opens it and starts reading through the documents within. The more he reads, the deeper his frown becomes. It’s as he reaches halfway through the “agreement” that Cor says, “This is almost ninety percent illegal. You aren’t breaking your lease, which is one-hundred percent illegal, and while the agreement is certainly within code, the fees are exorbitant, especially for a studio apartment. And I think I recognize this address...”

He pulls out his phone and vaguely notices that both Ulric and Altius are rather pale at his comments. He files the reaction away for later examination as he inputs the address into the Crownsguard database, and it comes up with a hit.

“Sir Ulric, did you know your building has been condemned for five years now?”

“It’s what?” Ulric whispers, eyes almost filled with dread.

Cor hums. “Yes, notices should have been sent out and the building torn down and renovated before any new occupants were allowed inside. Which means that this lease, and every other lease connected to this address, is one hundred percent illegal no matter the contents, since there should be no occupants at this current time. From the fact that there have been no reports of new construction in the area, this means that the building is still the one that was condemned by the Crownsguard.” From the silence from the Glaive’s, this is news to them. Cor sighs. “Altius, we’re supposed to be working on Ulric’s stamina and agility today. If you wouldn’t mind taking over until I get back? The red cabinet by the door has potions and elixirs, take what you need and make a note of what you used, they’ll be replenished at no cost to you. I should be back in an hour, maybe two. He’s to be in one piece, though mild singeing is permitted.”

Cor walks towards the door as Altius says, “I get permission to throw fireballs at Nyx?”

“One piece, Altius, otherwise you’ll have to answer to his Majesty,” Cor calls over his shoulder.

“Not to worry, Marshall,” Altius practically sings. “I kill Nyx, Libs is likely to have my head!”

Cor closes the door just as Ulric yelps, Altius cackling in ways that send terrified shivers down Cor’s spine, not like he’ll let anyone know about them.

She sounds far too much like Regis whenever he lets his inner black mage out to play...

* * *

Regis looks up from his current paperwork as a knock taps at his door. “Enter,” he says, and straightens hopefully as Cor walks into his study. “Cor, please tell me you’re here to rescue me from the paperwork... and please tell me that is not for me,” Regis winces, staring at the rather thick file in Cor’s hands. Astrals, it looks like some of the suggested laws his Council sends up.

Cor’s face doesn’t display any of his emotions, but Regis can read his voice like an open book as the younger man says, “Apologies, your Majesty, but I just received troubling news about the Glaive you have me training.”

Regis frowns and sits back. “Troubling news? About Ulric?”

“More like his current living situation,” Cor states as he sets the file on Regis’s desk. “Sir Altius apparently delivered this to Sir Ulric last night. It is a notice of eviction, along with a copy of Sir Ulric’s lease and the agreement created between Sir Ulric and the landlord, highlighted to show where the landlord claims Ulric is ‘breaking’ the lease. Naturally, I read through it, and found the entire thing approximately ninety percent illegal just by what is within that file.”

Regis glances up at Cor, hoping the man is merely exaggerating, except that Regis knows Cor. His Marshall would not exaggerate over something like this, especially since he brought it straight to him. And so, Regis opens the file and begins reading. He quickly finds what Cor is talking about, and struggles hard to keep his magic under control so he didn’t set his desk on fire. Again. For the third time that week. “What. Is. This?!” he hisses, staring at the various code violations that make up Ulric’s lease.

“And that’s without getting into the fact that the building itself has been condemned for five years,” Cor _helpfully_ comments.

“This is- This is-“ Regis sputters for a minute, before he closes his eyes and forces his breathing to relax. There is not much he can do without fully destabilizing the careful balance of politics currently in place, even though he has a good idea on who is behind allowing this... _travesty_ to occur to his citizens. And likely any obvious action he makes will merely cause more problems for Ulric, and potentially others, in the long run. He couldn’t just replace the landlord, since he has no way of ensuring the new one will not be worse than the current one, and clearly the Crown-issued notices have been stalled in going to their intended locations. And so, he instead does the one thing that he knows will at least make the most positive change, even if it will take time to reach it. “Madeline,” he calls out, and the door opens a second later.

“Yes, your Majesty?” his Crownsguard-issued secretary asks, tablet in hand like normal.

“Cor will be opening a quiet investigation into conditions in the Immigrant District. If you would provide him with some of those names we were discussing the other day?” Regis asks, smiling benignly in answer to Cor’s almost feral grin at the news.

Madeline’s smile could cut diamonds. “Of course, your Majesty.”

“And if you could alert the staff to clear out a room in the Royal Wing for Sir Ulric?”

“Certainly, your Majesty, I shall make sure that the Soulmate Suite is aired out and appropriately stocked and furnished. Should I include ingredients and other food items in the kitchenette area that are normally found in the Southern Galahd Canyon?”

“I do believe he would appreciate that. Make sure to alert me when the suite is ready so I can get Noctis to bring Sir Ulric there personally.” Regis smiles, and then decides to add, “Also, if you could clear the day’s schedule so I can spend time with my son, that would be much appreciated.”

“I’m sorry, you Majesty, however that is not something I will allow,” Madeline says, giving Regis a mock glare.

Regis shrugs and sighs. “Oh, well. I had to try.” He then looks at Cor and nods. “Get the names from Madeline and bring them to Monica. I take it Sir Ulric is exercising by himself for now?”

Cor’s face slides back into his normal expression of indifference. “Actually, your Majesty, Sir Altius is assisting Sir Ulric in his stamina and agility exercises. I do believe she is as terrifying as you are when unleashing your inner black mage.”

Regis chuckles and shakes his head, waving Cor off as he gets back to his paperwork.

...which he swears has just tripled since he last looked at it. He _has_ to learn Madeline’s secret, since he’s certain she had not moved from the door.

* * *

Noctis perks up as he sees the teenage girl walk out of the training room Uncle Cor just disappeared into, and skips over to her. “Hello!” he chirps, grinning as she jumps and turns to him. “You’re Sir Crowe Altius, correct?”

She eyes him warily, but still answers. “That’s right, your Highness. Is there something I can do for you?”

Noctis nods. “Mhm! Dad’s got the staff cleaning out one of the rooms for Nyx, Miss Madeline warned me about it, I was wondering if you could help get his things from his apartment? Dad said something about being temporarily unable to do much about the situation except make sure Nyx has a roof over his head that isn’t the barracks,” Noctis says as he blinks up at Sir Altius.

Sir Altius blinks back at him, staring wide eyed for a minute. “Wait, the King’s letting Nyx stay here?” she asks, her voice almost hushed.

“Uh-huh! There’s a suite in the Royal Wing for soulmates of the Prince, or platonic soulmates of the King, to live in. I think Miss Madeline said something about removing the more os-ten-ta-tious furniture from the room so Nyx isn’t too uncomfortable.” Noctis grins and leans close to Sir Altius to whisper conspiratorially, “She’s even making sure there’s Galahdan ingredients in the kitchenette area so Nyx can make his own food if he wants. It’s gonna be great!”

Sir Altius looks like her brain has crashed from what he just told her. Before he can ask if she’s alright, she shakes her head. “Ah, sure. I can ask some of the off-duty Glaive’s to grab his stuff out of the apartment, and I can easily clear out his area in the barracks. This is gonna be done today?”

Noctis wonders why she sounds so hesitant over that, but nods anyways. “Yep. Thank you so much, Sir Altius!” he says with a bow.

When he straightens, Sir Altius has a really weird look on her face. “Just Crowe, alright? I’m, like, six years older than you.”

Noctis frowns. “Wait... I know everyone thinks I’m lazy, but I am good at math. Aren’t you supposed to be sixteen to join the Kingsglaive?” He puts his hands on his hips as Crowe looks scared momentarily.

“Shhhush!” she hisses, glancing around and stepping close. “Listen, my grandmother can’t exactly work, old age plus injuries when we fled Galahd, so this is gonna have to stay our little secret, alright?”

Understanding flashes through his mind at that. “Ooh. Okay,” he says, nodding. “Well, thank you anyways, Crowe!” He waves as he jogs off down the hallway. If he hurries, he can make it to his next lesson before Ignis learns he’s taken a detour.

* * *

Between spending the morning avoiding Crowe’s fireballs, and Leonis’s idea of stamina and agility training, Nyx is practically dead on his feet, as usual. What isn’t as usual, though, is the Prince waiting for him outside the training room.

Noctis brightens in a way that never fails to not cause Nyx’s heart to warm at the similarity to how Selena used to look at him upon his return from a hunt, no matter how long it was since he last saw it. “Nyx! C’mon, I’ve got something to show you!” Noctis says, skipping forward and grabbing Nyx’s hand gently.

Nyx lets himself be tugged along by the excited nine-year-old. “What is it this time, little Prince?” Nyx asks, hoping that Noctis will hear the tiredness in his voice and let him stumble back to the barracks to sleep. Alas, the Astrals are not smiling down on this humble little Glaive.

Noctis turns his head to grin up at Nyx. “Don’t worry, you’ll like this. I promise.”

Nyx isn’t too certain about that, but lets his Prince do as he will anyways. He’s too tired to realize just how many floors they’re going up, and he’s openly yawning when they finally reach whatever Noctis wants to show him. “Alright, what is it, then?” he mumbles around a yawn, rubbing at one of his eyes in the hopes of keeping it open a little longer. He’s pushed closer to the door, Noctis grinning widely, and with a grumble he opens the door himself.

He takes a step inside and freezes.

That’s his shrine. His shrine is supposed to be in his apartment. There’s even fresh flowers in a vase and the right type of incense smoking away in the burner he keeps in front of it.

Now far more awake, Nyx’s eyes flicker around the room and notices all of the little things from his apartment spread out in the space. His grandmother’s blanket, that survived the destruction of Galahd through sheer luck, is thrown over a rather comfortable looking couch. His chair is in the sitting area, and it looks almost out of place amongst the rest of the simple but clearly expensive furniture. The scent of Tikka Masala hangs heavy in the air along with the incense, drawing his eye into what is clearly a kitchen area where his mother’s stone wear soup pot sits on the stove, with the lid closed over it to preserve the heat. He’s fairly certain there’s a basket full of Grandma Altius’s herbed flatbreads sitting on the island. Several of his books are sitting on tables around the room, but otherwise there’s very little of his things there.

Including some very important things. Like his clothes.

“Uh, where’s the bed?” Nyx asks, almost feeling foolish as he does.

Noctis rolls his eyes and grabs Nyx’s hand again. “In the bedroom, silly! C’mon!”

“Bedroom?” he winces.

“Well yeah. This is the Soulmate Suite, set aside for soulmates of the Prince and platonic soulmates of the King. Uncle Clarus would have had these rooms, but he used the King’s Shield rooms instead. And then he and his wife moved out to the Amicitia House when Gladio was born. At least,” Noctis shrugs, “that’s how Dad puts it.” He swings open a door that Nyx wonders how he hadn’t noticed, and Noctis proclaims, “And here we are!”

Nyx only takes a second to compare the space to his apartment before his eyes zero in on something sitting on his bed. “Marlboro-kun!” he yelps and scrambles to pick up and hide the plush.

“What’s wrong?” Noctis asks, garnering Nyx’s attention. “Crowe said that she put him where you normally keep him.”

Nyx hesitates, before he sighs. “It’s just that I don’t like people knowing about him, is all.” He chuckles self-depreciatingly. “Twenty-one years old and still sleeps with a stuffed toy. Yeah, my reputation would go down the drain in seconds.”

Noctis blinks and tilts his head. “Is that like no one’s supposed to see Carbuncle?”

“Who?”

A high, squeaky voice says, “Hiya, Noct!” Nyx startles and backs up against a wall, only to stare at the blue-furred fox creature that bounds inside the bedroom area. What...? How did it get in? Is it a threat? _What_ is it?

“Carbuncle!” Noctis happily kneels down and rubs at the blue-furred foxes head. “What’re you doing here? I thought you didn’t like showing up when other people are around.”

“Ah, it’s fine, Noct, not like he can see me anyways,” this ‘Carbuncle’ replies back, somehow, since the mouth doesn’t move from what Nyx can tell. Carbuncle then turns its face to Nyx and notices the Glaive’s stare. “Wait, can you see me right now?”

Since he’s fairly certain his throat won’t work right if he tries speaking, he nods dumbly.

“Huh.” Carbuncle sits down and scratches at an ear with one of its back legs. “I’m not letting anyone but Noct see me right now. So... Oh!” Carbuncle tilts its head at Nyx. “You’re one of Noct’s soulmates, aren’t you?” Again, Nyx nods. “Well, that explains everything, then! Like why Iggy keeps chasing me out of the kitchens.”

“You’re a messenger of the Gods, Carbuncle, you don’t need to eat,” Noctis deadpans.

Carbuncle turns wide eyes at Noctis. “But Noct, that doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy it.”

Nyx gets the feeling that his life has turned needlessly complicated ever since he ran into Noctis and Ignis. He’s not too certain he’s actually upset about the fact or not.

He pushes aside the weirdness of the situation and tries to say, “Little Prince, I can’t accept this.”

Noctis turns wide eyes to Nyx and tilts his head. “Why not?”

“Because I’m,” he waves a hand uselessly towards his person, struggling to find words that aren’t exact mirrors of what Tredd and Luche would refer to refugees as. Finally, he decides to go with, “I’m not Lucian, I _can’t_.”

Nyx gets the feeling he might have still said the wrong thing when Noctis frowns, however his little soulmate doesn’t try to push that issue. Instead, he stands up, Carbuncle in his arms, and says, “Then consider you staying here your birthday present to me, since Uncle Cor said you likely won’t have the time to find one yourself.”

Yet again, Nyx has found himself trapped because of the Lucis Caelum line, and he’s still unsure whether or not he likes that they can do this. Nonetheless, he wilts and sighs, knowing he’ll have to agree now. “Fine. But this is only until the Marshall’s training is over,” he says.

Noctis beams, and Nyx isn’t too sure he’ll be able to want to leave once these six months are over.

* * *

Nyx groans as he wakes up to his alarm blaring his ear off. He turns his head towards the noise, and smacks a hand onto the clock, silencing his alarm. He sighs as blessed silence rings out, before he blinks and realizes he doesn’t recognize the ceiling above him.

He jerks into a sitting position, unhindered by any unknown weights like the time he awoke in the Prince’s rooms, and scans the room in seconds. It takes a moment for him to realize where he was.

Right. He’d been shown to what Noctis called the “Soulmate Suite” last night, after training with the Marshall. Noctis left, Nyx scarfed down as much of Grandma’s Tikka Masala and flatbreads as he could stomach, and then he crashed on the bed, barely remembering to shuck his dirty workout clothes before he did so.

He glances at the clock. Six-o-three, okay, he still has a couple hours before archery training with Leonis starts. He has enough time to poke around this place, get a shower, freak out over texts with Libs, Crowe, and Pelna, and eat. Definitely eating before going to training. He sets Marlboro-kun aside and moves to get out of the rather comfortable bed.

He shambles over to the dresser, and is glad that he finds all his clothes (except his uniform) inside the piece of dark wood furniture. He plucks out a pair of comfortable sweatpants and a sleeveless spandex shirt, along with fresh underwear, praying like mad no one has any proof of what his preferred type is. That right there is prime blackmail material, and he knows it. (It’s better than going commando in his uniform pants, and they’re actually rather comfortable, for all that they’re more expensive. He’s lucky he’s secure enough to not get dysphoria wearing them.)

He picks up his phone, which luckily seems to have ended up on the charger before he crashed last night, and moves towards where he assumes the bathroom is. He has to stop once he’s inside, though, because of just how huge the room is.

He immediately takes a picture and sends it to the group chat board.

**N: [Image embed of a black marble and sterling silver shower and bath] WHAT THE CRAP IS THIS???**

**N: THIS PLACE IS HUGE!!!**

**C: I know. You suck, by the way, that shower looks divine.**

**N: I’ll tell you if it is in a minute. But no, seriously.**

**N: I think I could fit my apartment in here. Just in the bathroom.**

**P: Okay, that is an exaggeration. In the bedroom, sure, but not the bathroom.**

**P: That’s half of your apartment’s square footage.**

**N: Not helpful, Pelna.**

**N: [Image embed of the sinks, Nyx’s reflection partially blocked by the phone] Why would I need two sinks??? What do you do with them???**

**L: I think it’s supposed to be so that two people can use them at the same time.**

**L: Rich people shit. Something like that.**

**C: WHY WOULD THERE BE MORE THAN ONE PERSON IN THE BATHROOM AT A TIME???**

**P: Couples. They share bathrooms all the time.**

**P: At least, I think they do.**

**L: What’s wrong with sharing one sink though?**

**C: I dunno, but I do gotta say: that bed is the most comfortable thing in existence and you are inviting me to a sleepover or facing disownment, Ulric.**

**N: Who knows? Besides, I’m more worried over what I’m going to do with all this space.**

**N: Wait, you tried out the bed? After one of Grandma’s Caffeine Shakes???**

**C: Well, duh. Wanted to make sure you and Marlboro-kun were nice and comfy. I mean**

**C: [Image embed of Marlboro-kun sitting on top of a mound of pillows] Doesn’t he look comfortable on top of his mountain?**

**L: WHO NEEDS THAT MANY PILLOWS??**

**N: I dunno, but most of them ended up on the floor and I kinda feel bad about it.**

**N: Listen, I’ve got to get going. First chance to cook my own breakfast and I am not letting it go to waste.**

**L: Wait, there’s a KITCHEN???**

**C: I’ll show you two the pics later.**

Nyx shakes his head and shuts down his phone’s screen. Alright, time to see if this shower really is as divine as it looks...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Please leave a comment or kudos if you can, they alleviate my depression and make me feel all nice and fuzzy inside. And they might actually convince the characters to actually start helping me get chapter 7 written so I can move onto the fun stuff -pouts-


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All right, I just decided to post the other chapters that I already have written up so this really will fall under sporadic updates.
> 
> **//clears throat//**
> 
> Laadies and Gentlemennn~! Please welcome to the stage, our ever-lovable, Chocobo-haired, Prompto Argentum~~~! :D

Noctis has been buzzing ever since he was told the good news. Dad’s letting him join public school this year! Yeah, it means more time away from Nyx, but Uncle Cor’s been working the Glaive into the ground recently, so Nyx has been dozing off more and more whenever Noctis is over. Not like Noctis thinks it’s Nyx’s fault! He knows that Nyx is going to be busy once Uncle Cor’s done with him, Noctis just wants to be there for Nyx as much as he can. Their oldest soulmate is also, well, the most nervous one. And Noctis understood. He’d asked Ignis if there was a term for what Nyx’s worries were, and he’d explained what pedophiles are to Noctis. Combine the worries that Nyx will be painted as one, and the stress of training to build up a Glaive regiment under Noctis, _and_ the gap between their social classes, and Nyx has a lot to be nervous about.

So yeah. Noctis wants to try and alleviate as many nerves and worries as he can.

Except he’s been begging for years to go to public school instead of taking private lessons all the time. It took years to get Dad to cave like this. Maybe he’ll make some new friends! They’ll have to pass Ignis’s inspection, obviously, but he really wants more friends to hang out with.

As he’s walking up to the school, someone trips over their feet right behind him. He turns and blinks at the boy as he winces and says, “Ow, smooth Prompto.”

Noctis tilts his head, feeling his forearm tingle a bit like it did the last few times he’s had a reaction, and holds out his hand for the boy. “Here, let me help,” he says, smiling as the bright blond looks up at Noctis.

“Ah, thanks,” the boy says, flushing slightly, likely in embarrassment but Noctis just thinks it makes his freckles stand out even more. A pale hand reaches up and takes Noctis’s, which causes the tingling to get even worse.

Noctis heaves as he helps the other boy to stand, grunting in exertion. “Oof, you’re...” Noctis says right before he meets light blue eyes and the world seems to stop around him. The burning in his forearm feels right, as if he’s found the final piece of his life, his soul. “...mine,” he finishes, uncaring as to how it may sound.

The blond flushes. “Wh-what?”

Noctis grins brilliantly. “I’m Noctis. You’re Prompto, right? At least, I think you said that was your name.”

Before the blond could answer, the bell rang, and students flow into the building.

Noctis refuses to let Prompto go, instead walking hand-in-hand with the blond all the way inside. “I’m in room 104, where’re you going?” Noctis asks, still grinning widely.

“Uh, I, I’m 104, too,” Prompto says, clearly overwhelmed by Noctis’s energetics. Noctis probably should calm down, but he’s just so excited, he’s found his last soulmate! “Um, you, you can let go now,” Prompto adds, his spare hand coming up to rub at the spot over his heart. “Thanks for the help back there, but, uh...”

Noctis grins at Prompto and lets go of the boy’s hand. He stays right beside Prompto as they walk, though, and asks, “So, what do you think the class will be like? This is my first year in a public school, so I don’t really know what to expect.”

Prompto blinks at Noctis for a second, before he chuckles and scratches at his nose, a flush rising on his cheeks. “Ah, well, I suppose it would depend on the teacher we’ve got? Different teachers have different teaching styles, so that’ll be important for what class will be like. Otherwise, probably boring.”

Noctis shrugs and steps inside the classroom, eyes zeroing in on two empty seats near the front of the class. He grabs hold of Prompto again and moves quickly over to the seats, plunking down in one while the blond does the same in the other, though with much less enthusiasm.

As the teacher steps inside and begins roll by assigning seats to each student, Noctis knows he’s likely to have some issues. Because his seat is nowhere near Prompto’s, and there is no way he’ll let that go without a fight.

He hopes that Dad will understand once Noctis can tell him. There’s just no way he’s going to blurt out that he and Prompto are soulmates when their classmates or teachers could let it slip before Dad finds out.

* * *

Nyx groans as he steps out of the car and glares at the school building. His Majesty had received a call stating that Noctis was acting out in class, which makes no sense since the boy has been begging to go to public school for years now, apparently. And since his Majesty has a busy schedule that can’t be easily ignored in favor of clearing this up, he had Cor release Nyx to go deal with it in his Majesty’s place.

Nyx is torn between glad for the distraction, considering he’d been dodging sharp steel for the past hour and a half without being allowed to use either his daggers or the pillars unless as launch pads, and aggravated because _of course_ Noctis chooses the first day of school to act up, right in the middle of training. Nyx has to give up his, now extended, lunch hour to clear this mess up, and Leonis has very clearly stated he will have to report to his Majesty before returning to the training room. The little Prince had better have a good reason for this.

Nyx stalks inside the building and up to the front desk in the office. “Excuse me, I’m here regarding Noctis Caelum, can you direct me to the Principal’s office?” he asks, turning his charm up as high as he’ll let himself.

The secretary blinks up at him and raises an eyebrow. “Are you kin to Prince Noctis?” she asks in a condescending tone.

Oh, she’s one of _those_ types. Fine.

Nyx’s smile gets sharper. “Confirmed platonic soulmate and Captain of his Highness’s Kingsglaive regiment besides. His Majesty sent me in his stead,” he responds as politely as he can, and points over towards an office door. “I’ll just show myself in, then?” he asks, smiling beatifically at the scandalized look on the secretary’s desk. He doesn’t even wait for her response, instead he just walks over to the office door and opens it.

His gaze crosses over the gathered teacher and Principal, Noctis himself, and an overweight blond boy standing in the corner looking rather uncomfortable. He addresses the Principal first. “Principal Nocturne, I apologize on behalf of his Highness’ father, he was unable to leave his meetings on such short notice,” he says with a small bow, glad that he decided to change into his uniform before coming down here. He then turns his gaze back to Noctis, and forgoes most manners of propriety. “All right, little Prince, what have you done this time?”

Noctis shoots out of the chair he’d been in and yanks off his glove that hides his Mark. “I found him, I found our barcode, see!”

Nyx blinks, completely caught off guard by both the action and words, before he looks at Noctis’s Mark. Sure enough, the entire Mark has been colored in, the missing barcode the same ethereal shade of blue as the rest of the Mark. He takes a guess and flicks his gaze over to the only other boy in the room, and mentally groans as he felt his own Mark flare. Great, yet another kid, and one with rather obvious Niflheim heritage. He’s going to gut Luche for jinxing him like this. “I take it our barcode is the young man over in the corner there?” he asks lightly.

Noctis nods so fast Nyx makes a mental comparison to a bobble head. “Uh-huh! It happened when I helped Prompto up from where he’d tripped, right before class!”

“And have you thought to ask young Prompto whether his Mark has changed at all or not?” Nyx patiently asks, ignoring the stunned adults and panicking boy in the room in favor of his Prince.

Noctis wilts at that. “Well, no, we didn’t exactly have any time for that. I was lucky we’re in the same class, since I didn’t want to lose track of him after just finding him.”

Nyx sighs. “Right. Well.” He straightens and stares the Principal dead in the eye. “I apologize for the trouble that his Highness has caused. I hope you understand that it is nothing against the teachers of this establishment, but the loose-lips of his fellow students, that no doubt had his Highness keeping quiet on this issue. You understand that should this information come to light before his Majesty is able to make an official announcement, there will be consequences, for all involved.”

The Principal pales before Nyx can even get the full threat out, and he nods quickly. “Yes, Sir Glaive, I understand, and will ensure the teachers’ silence on the matter.”

Nyx bows his head. “Thank you.” He looks down at Noctis and places a hand on top of his head. “Cover your Mark back up, little Prince, we don’t want anyone finding out about that, yet. You can stay next to Prompto for today, but starting tomorrow you have to sit in your assigned seat, no matter where it is, am I understood?”

Noctis pouts as Prompto squeaks. “Yes, Nyx,” Noctis says, looking down at the ground and scuffing his toe against the carpet.

Nyx nods, and gives the Principal and teacher another polite bow. He smiles at Prompto, who is staring wide-eyed and rapidly breathing while rubbing at the spot right over his heart, and leaves the office.

Hopefully he won’t have much trouble getting this Prompto kid’s file from the school, or a copy of it, anyways.

* * *

Regis looks up at the door as someone knocks on it. “Come in,” he calls out, hoping for a reprieve from the paperwork. He perks up when Ulric steps inside. “Ah, Sir Ulric, do you have word on what caused Noctis to act up?” he asks, setting aside his pen and straightening in his seat.

“Yes, your Majesty,” Ulric says as he hands over a manila folder. “It appears the little Prince found our final soulmate before classes began, and decided to refuse sitting anywhere but next to him while classes were in session. He understands that he has to sit in his assigned seat after today. I took the liberty of requesting the school’s file while I was there on the young man, a Prompto Argentum, for your perusal.”

Regis smiles warmly at Ulric as he accepts the folder. “Thank you for clearing this up, Sir Ulric, I know with how busy Cor has been keeping you with training this likely cut into your own time.”

Ulric shakes his head. “It’s not a problem, your Majesty,” he says. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to get something to eat before returning to the Marshall.” Ulric bows and takes his leave when Regis merely waves him off.

Now, to find out who he needs to contact regarding this new development. And who this final soulmate of his son’s is.

Regis sits back and flips open the file. Hm, clearly Prompto was adopted, while it might not matter to Regis that much his court may take issue with Noctis having a clearly Niflheimer soulmate, he’ll have to make plans to dissuade them of their rabble-rousing before the announcement. Good grades, seems to have a knack for photography despite his young age, though more than a little quiet according to his various teachers’ reports. Possibly a bullying problem? Oh dear, Noctis may be getting into trouble quite often if there is a bullying issue towards Prompto. Regis is already starting to dread parent-teacher meetings. He can’t always brush these meetings off to Sir Ulric, he’ll be too busy not only now but later on in the future.

Well, now that he has a good overview of the boy, time to speak with his parents. Regis scans the documents for a contact number, and he pauses when he finds it.

He recognizes that number.

He grabs his cell phone and inputs the contact number left on Prompto’s file, staring at the results. Results that should not have appeared, and yet there they are. He deletes the number and types it again. The same result. Delete. Retype.

_Cor Leonis_ glares at him from the screen.

That. Is. It.

Cor has kept something as important as an adopted child from his friends.

It is time to remind him of the punishments such secret keeping has, and to enjoy watching the younger man try to squirm his way out of them. After all, this might just tempt Mother Weskham back to Insomnia, if only for a time. Well, he’ll have to call Weskham and Cid personally with invitations to the ball that they’ll have to throw for the official announcement.

Regis is going to enjoy this, he decides as he places the file aside and starts again on his paperwork. No need to tempt it to multiply again. He can easily speak with his secretary regarding the official announcement later, this will have to be done swiftly before anyone learns of this. And perhaps he should increase security in the Citadel, also, no telling how his court will react, especially considering they may decide that Noctis would be better to take the throne early just so they could manipulate the Crown easier.

Scheming bunch of jackals, the lot of them.

* * *

Prompto gets home from school feeling as if his whole world has been turned upside down. He’d just meant to make friends with the Prince, or at least try to, like what Lady Lunafreya suggested in her letter! He hadn’t meant to find out that the Prince is actually one of his soulmates!

He still has no idea how he even managed to make it all the way through the school day without falling into a massive panic attack. He’s just glad that it’s simmered down enough to not hit him now.

His hand reaches up for the spot over his heart, where his Mark resides. The tingling from this morning at least was far better than the painful stabbing of a year ago, he’s never seen Dad as worried as he was back then. Well, he supposes that makes sense. The Prince- _Noctis_ is Dad’s nephew, after all, and he’d just been hurt by a daemon—

Wait.

Prompto stops halfway through toeing off his shoes and narrows his eyes, glaring at nothing. Dad knew. Dad had to know, he’s part of Noctis’s family. He’s known all along who Prompto’s soulmate was, or at least one of them. Probably two, Auntie Monica had said that her and Dad were putting a Glaive through Officers training and that’s why they haven’t been around as much these past few months. And from what he glimpsed of Noctis’s soul mark, Dad likely has known _all four of Prompto’s soulmates_. And has said _nothing_. Even though he knows how anxious Prompto gets. He’s let him go about his day without any warning as to who his soul mark represents, despite Dad knowing full well what Prompto will be in for later on.

Oh, Dad is so going to get it when he comes home. Auntie Monica, too, next time Prompto sees her.

* * *

Cor knows he’s in trouble when he sees a text on his phone from Regis, ‘politely’ asking Cor to bring Prompto to the Citadel for dinner. Not just, “your son” or anything like that, no. Regis asked for Prompto _by name_. He knew it would happen, Ulric had explained what the situation with Noctis was about and Cor immediately recognized the description of his own son. He’s been hoping to keep this _quiet_ , he has enemies that would love to use Prompto against him, it’s why no one outside of Prompto’s godparents and the occasional trustworthy Crownsguard know about the adoption. Besides that, considering how Cor found Prompto and ended up adopting him, there was the whole issue with Niflheim potentially creating parents that Cor could have stolen Prompto from. This will not be ending well, why did the school have to put Prompto and Noctis in the same class? Cor wants Prompto to have experience in protecting himself before this all comes out!

Well. Too late for that now, he supposes.

He’d better get ready for whatever punishment his King deems necessary.

The amount of trouble Cor is in doubles when Prompto refuses to speak with Cor unless absolutely necessary when he’s picked up for said dinner. His kid’s always been a sharp one, he’s probably figured out that Cor has kept him from his soulmates despite knowing each and every one of them, or at least didn’t think to warn him about them so as to lessen the potential shock and panic he went through. But considering who those soulmates are, on top of Cor’s own enemies and how Prompto came to be Cor’s son, he had thought it was the right choice to keep Prompto safe from harm.

He still thinks he made the right decision, and will stand by it no matter what.

Even in the face of his King’s very real disappointment and exasperation.

And Clarus’s surprise and incredulousness.

And whatever else the two decide to throw at him.

...though if Prompto pulls out his damn teary pout, he might not be able to resist. Whoever taught his son how to cry on demand like that is a daemon that deserves to burn in the pits of the Rock of Ravataugh for that. The look is practically _lethal_.

He just hopes he can get the pleasure of seeing others succumb to that look, now that Prompto is known to the others in the Citadel. He needs some blackmail on Regis and Clarus to counteract what they have on him.

Cor has Monica slip Prompto inside the Citadel, since he still doesn’t want anyone to really find out about his kid, and into the Royal floors. He guides Prompto towards the living area, since they still have time before dinner, and prepares himself to have to deal with his best friends’ reactions to his son. Much less having to face Noctis upon realizing that Cor knew who his final soulmate is, that pout will likely be as lethal as Prompto’s teary pout. _Please Bahamut don’t let them do their pouts in stereo, he might not actually survive that._ Cor opens the door and scans the room, taking in Regis and Clarus’s presence alongside Noctis, Gladio, and Ignis. Hm, Ulric is either taking a shower or he’s decided to have dinner in his apartment. Likely the latter, if only so he can process the new information about Prompto. This whole thing has really been hard on Ulric, mentally, and Cor’s training likely hasn’t been helping the man come to terms with it all. Perhaps a small break, until whatever Regis throws for the announcement ceremony is wrapped up, to give Ulric that space to breath.

Noctis is the first to notice that Cor and Prompto are there, and Cor almost feels terrible when Noctis perks up, obviously surprised and confused. “Prompto! Dad didn’t say you were coming over! Did Uncle Cor escort you inside?”

Without missing a beat, Cor says, “Of course I escorted my son into the Citadel, Noct. Who else would have done it?”

That gets everyone to stop and stare at him, except Regis who is managing to look both smug and disappointed at the same time. Clarus is actually coughing his lungs out after choking on his drink. Finally, Noctis speaks up. “Uncle Cor,” he says slowly. “What do you mean Prompto’s your son?”

“He means, Noct,” Regis says, his smugness and disappointment even seeping into his voice, “that Cor has kept Prompto’s existence a secret from us.”

Cor glares at Regis. “I had my reasons, my King,” he says tightly.

Prompto sniffs and crosses his arms. “And I’m ignoring him. Dad could have given me a little warning about my soulmates, but no, he decided to not say anything,” Prompto says, even as he slowly walks over to Noctis, Ignis, and Gladio, nerves clearly starting to affect him in the face of three out of four of his soulmates. Perhaps it is a good thing that Ulric isn’t here, Prompto looks uncomfortable enough with just those his own age here.

Cor shuffles in place as Clarus sends him a _look_ , one that speaks of many bad things to come.

In the intervening silence, Regis smiles kindly at Prompto and asks, “Well, if it is not too forward of me, Prompto, what is it that you like?”

Cor closes his eyes as Prompto turns wide eyes at Regis. He hopes that his son won’t answer, but sags his shoulders when he hears the quiet, “Chocobos and photography, sir.”

“Why did you tell him that?” Cor hisses at his kid. Prompto turns a look that clearly says ‘the _King_ asked me a question, was I supposed to ignore him?’ “Yes, you were supposed to ignore him.”

Prompto scoffs and rolls his eyes as he turns back to Regis and a practically buzzing Noctis, Ignis, and Gladio. “He says that it was Auntie Monica who decked out my room in chocobos, but he’s the one that keeps giving me more plushies every year,” his kid continues to rat him out, clearly not caring what sort of trouble Cor gets into with his friends.

Noctis jumps out of his seat grinning. “Finally, someone whose Dad is as weird as mine! C’mon, I’ve got so many,” Noctis says as he grabs hold of Prompto’s wrist and drags the blond down the halls towards his bedroom.

“Noctis, what about dinner?” Ignis cries out.

“We’ve got time, Iggy, so c’mon! Let the adults talk while we get to know Prompto!” Noctis calls over his shoulder, getting some giggles from Prompto which, despite the situation, gets Cor’s heart to melt just a bit.

It’s as the children are leaving that Cor looks back at his friends, and feels trepidation sinking in his chest.

“Cor,” Regis says as he slowly sits back in his chair, giving Cor this disappointed look. “You know the punishment for the return of Cor the Impertinent.”

“There was no impertinence, my King,” Cor tightly says, hoping to wiggle his way out of this.

“Then what do you call hiding the fact you adopted a child from your best friends?” Clarus asks, hand resting on his chest as his eyebrows raise up to his receding hairline. “I would say that is definitely impertinence, wouldn’t you, Regis?”

“Indeed. In fact, I may just call both of our dear missing friends and invite them to the inevitable celebration we shall have to throw upon the announcement that Noctis has found his soulmates,” Regis says lightly, even as Cor pales. “I’m fairly certain Wesk can easily drag Cid into the City long enough for the grease monkey to get suitably distracted by the Regalia and thus not complain too loudly.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Cor breathes. “That would risk bringing his wrath upon your head as well.”

“That is a risk I am willing to take,” Regis primly says, before he gestures to one of the vacant seats. “Now, tell us about your baby immortal, Cor. You have, after all, kept him from us for all these years, it is only fair you tell us now.”

Cor looks before the smug Regis and waiting Clarus, and fights against the slump that wants to overtake his shoulders.

He is so, so screwed.

* * *

Regis frowns lightly as he plays with his cell phone, contemplating the various ways in which he could draw Cid back to Insomnia long enough to celebrate Noctis finding all of his soulmates so young. He wants to keep the Regalia as his trump card, Cid will know instantly that Regis is trying to buy him if he goes for that too quickly. Oh, but there are so few things that would draw Cid back willingly. Hm, perhaps something a bit more from the side could work.

**RLC: So, I know this is sudden, but Cor the Impertinent has made an unfortunate return.**

**CS: And how is this my issue? Shouldn’t you be contacting Mother Weskham?**

**RLC: He has decided to keep the fact he adopted a child hidden, mostly to protect the boy from his enemies.**

**RLC: And I will be contacting Wesk in a minute.**

**CS: Wait, the Baby Immortal has a Baby Immortal?**

**RLC: Yes. He does.**

**RLC: And the Baby Immortal’s Baby Immortal, as you put it, is one of Noctis’s soulmates.**

Regis stares at his phone, and hopes that isn’t too strong of a shift to scare Cid off.

**CS: No wonder you say that the Impertinent’s back. He coulda told us, at least!**

Clearly, that was too _subtle_ of a hint.

**RLC: That is how Clarus and I feel. However, this is only part of the reason why I contacted you.**

**RLC: See, Noctis has now found all of his soulmates, and as his godfather I thought it pertinent that you be notified of the upcoming announcement and celebration. Consider this your invitation.**

**CS: GODFATHER? Whaddya mean, GODFATHER?**

**CS: Reggie, I swear to Ramuh, if you kept the fact I have a godkid from me there’ll be hell to pay.**

Regis blinks. Wait, Cid hadn’t known?

**RLC: What do you mean you don’t know? I sent you the letter a week after Noctis was born!**

**CS: Well, I didn’t receive no letter. Didja send it in one a those fancy envelopes?**

**RLC: Well, maybe. I don’t quite recall...**

**CS: Cuz back then I was burning all fancy envelopes from the Crown City on principle. We only buried the hatchet a good three months after your sprog was born.**

Damn. Cid really hadn’t known.

Regis tries to jump on the new avenue open to him.

**RLC: Well, perhaps we could make up for lost time, then? You could come and get to know your godson?**

**CS: Not if my life depended on it, Reggie! You want me to get to know my godkid, you gotta bring him to Hammerhead.**

**CS: I ain’t going back to the Crown City, and there’s nothing you can do to convince me otherwise!**

Regis stares at those two texts, and feels his eyebrow twitch.

**RLC: Very well. But know that you pushed me to this level, Cid.**

He stands and walks over to the elevator, clicking the down button. He slips his phone into his pocket and waits. It doesn’t take long for the cabin to arrive, and Regis chooses the garage level. He closes his eyes and ignores the buzzing of his phone, no doubt a string of curse words and impossible threats for trying to trick Cid into returning.

Upon reaching the garage, Regis walks straight up to the Regalia and lifts the hood, thankful that it is late and there aren’t any of the Crown mechanics around. He removes his phone, swipes aside the mass of suitably irate texts from Cid, and pulls up his camera. A single snapshot, and Regis quickly sends it off to Cid, and waits.

Two minutes pass before Cid’s next text.

**CS: You, Reggie, are evil.**

**RLC: Does this mean you’ll be here for the celebration? You’ll get unlimited access once it’s over.**

**CS: Evil. Manipulative. Bastard.**

**CS: Fuck, what’s the date?**

Regis smiles smugly as he sends Cid the date and time, and he makes sure to tell Cid not to mention Cor’s adopted son to Wesk. The reaction is sure to be a beautiful addition to their blackmail supply on Cor. Once he receives that far more willing acceptance, he switches conversations to Wesk. He knows just how to start this one off, too.

**RLC: Wesk, my good bitch, I require your assistance.**

**WA: You haven’t called me that since you were fourteen. How bad?**

**RLC: The Impertinent has returned. When can you arrive in Insomnia to assist in his punishment?**

**WA: ...it’ll take me a few days to get everything settled here. And I’ll need a ride from Galdin.**

**RLC: You’ll have time then. Text Cid, I convinced him to visit for the occasion as well.**

**WA: This is more than the Impertinent returning, isn’t it?**

**WA: Regis Lucis Caelum...**

**RLC: Noctis has found all of his soulmates, and one of them is your godson. It is only polite to invite you to the celebration.**

There is a pause in Wesk’s messages, and Regis hopes that his former Retainer has not cottoned on to the connection between the return of Cor the Impertinent and Noctis’s soulmates.

**WA: That isn’t everything.**

**WA: I won’t push, for now, but I know you aren’t telling me everything, Regis.**

**WA: When’s this celebration, then?**

Regis sighs in relief that Wesk isn’t pushing, and sends his old friend the tentative date, along with the note that it is not set in stone yet.

Well. This will be interesting, having Wesk and Cid back in the city.

At least they won’t be here long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading~!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double updates, whoo-hoo! Don't expect this to happen often, people!
> 
> Alrighty, here's where we get into some nasty topics. It's only a short segment in the beginning of the chapter, but I will add the appropriate tags so those who are just finding the fic are made aware as well. So, there will be some **dead naming** of Nyx in here, alongside **ignoring preferred pronouns**. It wasn't intended to ever come up, but then the characters started blabbing and I felt like it flowed well enough to keep it in the story.
> 
> **_If you would prefer that I edit this chapter to remove these issues, please speak up now._** I do not want to offend anyone, or cause anyone distress. As stated, it is very short, and Cor comes to the rescue almost immediately afterwards, however I do aim to keep my readers as comfortable with what I am writing and sharing with them as possible.

Nyx has been dreading when the official announcement of Noctis’s soulmates hits the news ever since their Barcode was found in Noctis’s class. Mostly because, well, Luche ended up both right and wrong. Prompto is _from_ Niflheim, but he’s been raised in Insomnia all his life.

He just wishes that, well, this confrontation occurred somewhere like the Glaive barracks.

Not in one of the Citadel’s open-to-the-public areas.

“Well, well, look who it is!” Luche calls out rather loudly, grinning in a way that lets Nyx know he’s doing it on purpose. “Congratulations on moving up in the world, Ulric. Pretty good for a slumdog refugee like you.”

Nyx tries to not wilt in on himself as all the attention zeroes in on him. “What are you trying to get at, Luche?” he tiredly asks, knowing better that the loudmouth Glaive won’t let this drop until Nyx is thoroughly humiliated, despite the rather public setting.

“Oh, please, you know what he’s getting at, Ulric,” Tredd pipes up, smirking sharply. “Now, I’m fairly certain there’s a word for someone who associates with Nifs. Tray- Traitor? And what do you know! One of your underage soulmates just so happens to be a Nif. You sure did call that right, Luche.”

“Apparently I did.” Luche swaggers closer to Nyx, who stands his ground as best he can. “Who would have thought that the _Hero_ was really a pedophilic traitor deep, deep down? Your parents must be ashamed to have you as their only surviving child, _Nyx_. Or should I say, Noraxia?”

Nyx’s hands clench into fists at the sound of his dead name. “Lazarus,” he growls, glaring hard enough to mimic Leonis.

“Ooh, the dog shows her teeth, how cute,” Luche coos, purposefully misgendering Nyx like the asshole he is. “Now, you know the punishment of being a traitor, _Noraxia_. So, should I be the one to bring the charges to Drautos, or do you want to do the honors yourself?”

“ _What is the meaning of this?_ ” a voice Nyx has come to know far too well growls from across the room.

Nyx turns on his heel and almost sags as Leonis marches across the room, his face the expression of stormy rage. He’s under Leonis’s charge right now, surely he knows that Nyx isn’t a traitor, he’ll take Nyx’s side.

Luche and Tredd clearly did not expect anyone to stand up for Nyx, from how they flounder for a minute. “Marshall, we were-“ Luche tries to explain in a far kinder voice than he had just been speaking in.

“You had been making false accusations against a fellow Glaive while in the presence of multiple Crownsguard and civilians,” Leonis barks. “Do I need to recommend the both of you to _further_ training in how you treat your comrades? Or should I just inform his Majesty to remove you from the Glaive and send you my way so I can beat some manners into you myself? I don’t care what Drautos allows, you are currently acting in a manner unbefitting of a soldier of the Crown.”

“Ulric’s soulmate is a fucking Nif, Marshall!” Tredd bursts out. “What if he’s got contact with the Empire or something?”

Leonis’s glare would melt glass, Nyx is almost certain of that. “If you have a problem with _my son_ , Sir Furia, then you have a problem with me,” Leonis bites out. “Prompto has been raised in Insomnia ever since I rescued him from the Niflheim winter when he was six months old, and has had no contact with _anyone_ in the Empire in his life. Suggest that my son, and thus myself and a great number of the Crownsguard who assisted in raising him, is in anyway connected to the Empire again, and his Majesty won’t have a Glaive left to demerit and send to the Crownsguard. Am I clear?”

Okay.

_What?_

Clearly, Nyx isn’t the only one surprised by Leonis’s statement. Luche and Tredd are both shocked into silence, along with the rest of the room. And for all it meant the two Glaives are no longer taunting Nyx, this apparently is not a good thing in Leonis’s books. “I said, _am I clear?_ ”

Luche and Tredd jump to attention. “Yes, sir,” they grit out. Nyx can feel the glares boring into the back of his neck, but he’s a bit more interested in being shocked speechless over Leonis’s statement.

“Good,” Leonis states. “Dismissed, Sir Lazarus, Sir Furia.”

Nyx turns to watch the two assholes scamper off, and looks back at Leonis with wide eyes. He manages to find his voice long enough to squeak out, “Son?”

Leonis glowers at Nyx. “We’ll continue this in the training room, Ulric. Come on.”

* * *

Noctis hurries down to the royal tailor’s workshop, and hopes that he isn’t too late. He heard about the incident with those Glaive’s earlier in the day and wants to make sure that Nyx is okay. Also, there’s the fact that they hadn’t thought to warn Nyx over Prompto being Uncle Cor’s adopted son, so Noctis felt like he had a thousand apologies to make to Nyx.

Besides. Ignis insists that Noctis gets a new outfit from the tailors for the celebration they’re throwing for the announcement ceremony. He needs to be down there, anyways.

He skids around the corner and locks eyes on his target. He forces his legs to move faster, despite the pain spiking down his spine. “Nyx!” he cries, slowly drawing his oldest soulmate’s name out as he gets closer, until he tackle-hugs one of Nyx’s legs.

“Oof! L-little prince?!” Nyx sputters, looking at Noctis with wide, confused eyes. “You couldn’t just, I don’t know, wait to hug me until I was standing still?”

Noctis shakes his head. “Nope! It was either this or launching myself at your back!” he cheerfully says, before he sobers. “I heard about what happened earlier. Are you gonna be okay?”

Nyx tenses for a second, before his hand falls on top of Noctis’s head. “I’m- fine, little prince,” he forces out. “Wish that ass hadn’t dead-named me, but fine,” he mutters, probably thinking that Noctis couldn’t hear him.

Noctis frowns and reaches up to take Nyx’s hand off his head, grasping it tightly. “Dead-name? What’s a dead-name?”

Nyx stutters, before finally managing, “It’s a, name, that I don’t use anymore. That he _knows_ I don’t use anymore, and he purposefully used it to upset me.” Nyx glances around and shrugs. “Luche’s always been an ass like that, really. Though don’t tell anyone I said that word around you.”

Noctis files the term away, and plans to ask Uncle Cor what name Sir Lazarus used so he can keep an ear out for it’s further usage later. Besides, it sounds a lot like how he felt whenever the staff called him Nocturna once he asked Dad to call him Noctis instead, so maybe that’s what Nyx is talking about. For now, though, he rolls his eyes and deadpans, “Trust me, that was not the first time I heard that word, or worse. Dad’s already made me promise not to repeat them until I’m fifteen.” He tugs at Nyx’s hand and diverts the subject by saying, “C’mon, you’ve gotta go to the tailor’s too, right?”

“Yeah,” Nyx sighs, easily following along behind Noctis even though his flushed cheeks radiate his embarrassment. “Haven’t been to one of those in, well... ever, really. This is gonna be so weird.”

“It’s not all that bad,” Noctis says with a shrug. “You don’t have to strip down or anything, if that’s what you’re worried about. Well, unless they’ve already got something put together for you, but then it’s barely any time at all and you’re doing it behind a privacy screen anyways, so it’s not like they’ll see you. Besides,” Noctis glances around and adds in a whisper, “the Head Tailor had to deal with Dad and Uncle Clarus during their teenage years, and was around while Grandpa Mors was still King. He’s seen just about everything by this point.”

Nyx still seems hesitant though, but concedes, “Well... if you’re sure...”

Noctis nods and pats Nyx’s hand. “Don’t worry, I’ll be there suffering with you, too,” he says confidently. “The assistants keep trying to shove me into frilly dresses and stuff, saying that a ‘young lady like me’ should be wearing them, even though everyone knows I’m a boy.”

Nyx blinks down at Noctis for a second, before asking, “Wait, you too? Really?”

Understanding hits Noctis like a lightning bolt, and he nods excitedly. “Yup, so don’t worry. Desmond’s one of the only ones who gets it, he won’t hold anything against you or whatever you’re worried about,” he says with a cheery grin. That grin dims slightly when they finally reach the workshop. Noctis sighs and slumps slightly. “Here we go,” he mumbles as he pushes open the door.

Sure enough, there are at least half a dozen frilly dresses set out in Noctis’s size, which he wrinkles his nose at. Ugh, not again. At least Desmond seems to have caught sight of what his assistants tried to pull, as the dresses are all pushed to the side with another half-dozen suits hanging from a rack. “Ah, your Highness, you are early for once,” Desmond says brightly, before shooting a dark look over at one of his assistants, a particularly huffy old lady. “We’re still having some disagreements over what is acceptable, as has occurred the past several times you have graced us with your presence,” he says sharply, but his smile is soft, “however it should not take much longer to sort through that. Ah, and I take it this is Sir Ulric? A pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

Nyx shakes Desmond’s offered hand and nods once. “Likewise, sir.”

“Well, luckily, Sir Ulric, we already had several selections set aside for you to look through,” Desmond says and gestures towards another rack, with much larger suits hanging from it. “I do apologize over the lack of your culture’s garments, I would not have felt comfortable offering something offensive in Galahdan culture to you.”

Noctis tilts his head as Nyx pales and twitches. “Yeah, no. Thanks for the apology, but I’d rather be offended over what you think Galahdan clothing is like than even consider any of this. It’s just so...”

“Aren’t they gorgeous?” one of the other assistants, Mathilda (another one that tries to get Noctis into a dress, and she keeps trying to touch Dad’s butt whenever he’s in here), gushes, clearly oblivious to Nyx’s discomfort.

“ _Lucian_ ,” he stresses, grimacing. “I might be the Prince’s soulmate, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to allow myself to be sanitized for the court.”

Desmond waves off Mathilda and asks, “Would you know of someone who could assist us in ensuring your heritage is honored, Sir Ulric? I must admit, I have found myself quite curious over learning other culture’s methods of creating garments.”

“I know a person,” Nyx says slowly, still eyeing the suits like they’re about to jump off the rack and strangle him. “They’re gonna make me regret being born for even knowing, much less letting anyone else know about this, but according to Grandmother Altius they’re one of the best that made it from Galahd.” Nyx turns to Desmond and adds, “I’ll go get them, if you wish to take the time to start on the little prince’s clothes for the event.”

Noctis turns betrayed eyes towards Nyx as the elder quickly flees the workshop. He just ditched him!

* * *

Nyx sidles up to one of the Glaive’s he’s had barely any interactions with outside of the training ring. “Bellum,” he cheerfully says, hoping to get on the man’s good side right off the bat.

Sonitius Bellum glances out of the corner of his eye for a second, his face unmoving. “Ulric. I’m on duty.”

“I know, so I’ll make this quick,” he says, turning down the charm. “You see, a little birdie told me something about you being able to sew?”

“Who is this little birdie so I can slit their throat?” Bellum replies without missing a beat.

“It was Grandma, you wouldn’t dare.”

“Damn,” Bellum hisses, before shooting a short glare at Nyx. “What do you want?”

“Well, you know that whole, rather overdone, party the King’s throwing for the announcement thingy? Well, the royal tailor’s kind of have no idea what Galahdan traditions are for this sort of thing, so...”

“They tried to stuff you into something Lucian,” Bellum deadpans.

Nyx fights against whining. “It was so Lucian I felt like they’d ask me to undo my braids and cut my hair, Bellum. Please, I’ll do anything you ask, just make sure I don’t end up feeling like I stand out like a sore thumb.”

Bellum is quiet for a few seconds, clearly considering it, before he speaks again. “My shift ends in one hour, I’ll meet you there. However, I have two conditions.”

“Name them,” Nyx says with no hesitation.

“One, you recruit my brother into your regiment once the Marshall’s done with you. Two, you accept my transfer paperwork without question.”

“Done.”

“Good.” Bellum shifts slightly and turns his head away from Nyx a bit. “Now get out of here, before you jinx me and Drautos walks around that corner.”

“I’m already gone,” Nyx says as he does a little salute and walks the opposite direction down the hallway, ducking behind a corner as quickly as he can. He presses up against it and holds his hand over his heart. “Shiva’s tits, did I just accidentally poach the Daemon of the Glaive into my regiment before it’s even official?” he mutters, thinking back on his past decisions that lead him to this point.

Unfortunately, self-reflection proves that he would just make the same decision no matter what he’s presented with, so. There’s that.

Nyx shudders. “Better to have made a pact with a daemon than wearing that monstrosity,” he mutters as he starts back towards the tailor’s workshop.

* * *

Libertus knows his best friend, probably better than Nyx even knows himself. He’s been twitchy and stressed out since this whole soulmate business started, and Luche and Tredd being bigger assholes than normal aren’t doing anything to help the situation. Libs can’t help with them much, except beat their asses into the training mats until they’re black and blue and spitting curses at him.

What he can help with, though, is take some of the stress of Nyx’s shoulders.

Which is why he gets Crowe to help him break into Nyx’s apartments in the Citadel and copy every single one of his notes and sketches that survived the trip from Galahd. Because if the Lucian’s were going to throw their version of a soulmate celebration, then damn it, Libs is going to make sure Nyx gets the same, Galahdan-style.

Libs decides to approach Scientia, since he seems to be the easiest to get to, and while Scientia may be a noble at least he’s as dedicated as any member of the Crownsguard and Kingsglaive. “Heir Scientia, if I could have a moment?” he asks, fighting the urge to do so through grit teeth.

Scientia turns and blinks up at him. “Of course, Sir Ostium. How may I be of assistance?”

Libs ignores the weirdness of being asked that by nobility, chalking it up to Scientia’s training as a Retainer or some shit like that, and holds out the copies. “Galahdan tradition,” he quietly says, “states that you get beads made to represent the members of your soul mark once you have found them. These are all of Nyx’s ideas he’s had since his mark appeared. All members receive the beads; most normally put in a braid for them, but those whose hair doesn’t hold braids well or are in a line of work where they need to keep their hair short use braided leather necklaces or bracelets to hold them.”

Scientia takes the copies from Libs as if they’re some sort of precious jewel or something. “I take it this is either commission work or you make the beads yourself?” he asks, green eyes looking up from the myriad sketches to meet Libs’ own.

He hid his surprise as he nods. “Yeah, but Nyx is no craftsman, and hardly any of the Galahdan ones are able to practice their craft anymore, so commissioning them’s gonna be too expensive.”

Scientia takes a minute to shift through the sketch copies, before he nods. “Thank you, Sir Ostium. If I may, would you be so kind as to give me a list of these Galahdan craftsman and means to contact them through? They are likely to be more accurate if someone already familiar with the culture makes them.”

Now, Libs is stunned silent. He knows, from the various texts Nyx has sent over the past few months, that Scientia, Amicitia, and the Prince are all willing to humor Nyx with his culture and foods and what not, but to go so far as to want to commission craftsman from Galahd to make the soulmate beads? To _want_ to follow the Galahdan traditions and have them made?

Clearly, his shock is evident on his face, because Scientia rolls his eyes at him. “Oh, that’s almost the same reaction as Astra whenever I show the proper dedication to learning what recipe’s she’ll teach me,” he says, exasperation lacing his words. “Nyx is just as much a part of our soulmate dynamic as the rest of us, his comfort and feeling of belonging and acceptance among us are _important to us_. I know Noctis has been attempting to get it through Nyx’s thick skull that _all_ of who he is matters, including the culture that he is a part of. Clearly, we will need to work harder on proving we aren’t just spouting nonsense, but fully mean to back it up. So,” Scientia cocks an eyebrow, “might I ask names and contact information of the Galahdan craftsman from you, Sir Ostium?”

Shit.

Shit, he couldn’t hear any form of lie from the kid. Kids are notorious for being bluntly honest and open about their feelings and beliefs, so for Scientia to say that and Libs _can’t hear any hint of a lie in the words_... He actually means that.

Libs will withhold judgement, for now. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Scientia nods once. “Thank you, Sir Ostium. I wish you a good day and pleasant shift.”

...still withholding judgement. If the kid really does go through with getting the beads, Libs might have to rethink his thoughts on nobles.

Though it will only, _only_ , be limited to Nyx’s noble kids. Their parents/guardians only if they don’t get in the way of the kids wearing their beads however they choose to.

* * *

“What do you _mean_ one of our MT Clones was removed from the facility?!”

Ardyn rubs at his temple and tries to ignore the throbbing headache that Aldercapt’s shriek only exasperated. Of course, he would be more interested in the fact that one of those clones made it all the way to Insomnia, instead of the fact that the Prince has found _soulmates_.

Honestly. Does Shiva think that giving the King of Light soulmates will change the end of the Prophecy of Light? Ardyn isn’t going to go easy on young Noctis just because he has four people connected directly to his soul in such a manner. All it does is tell him who the sword-sworn are no doubt going to be, and thus the best people to target in order to weaken the King of Light.

Now, who would be the best to start with?

Young Ignis Scientia is too close to Noctis, according to the report their spies have sent them Ignis has been with Noctis since he was five. Highly devoted to Noctis and his safety and wellbeing, and while that can easily be twisted later, for right now it is far too difficult to try for anything.

Gladiolus Amicitia, the Shield, is definitely not going to work. While they have only recently been introduced to each other, the Amicitia’s are more devoted to the Lucis Caelum line than Gilgamesh ever was to Ardyn, which is saying something. Again, that devotion can be used to twist both Gladiolus and Noctis later, not so useful right now.

The escaped clone, Prompto Argentum, as he was apparently named, might be a good wedge to start chiseling away at, if it weren’t for the recent report regarding his adopted parent, Cor “the Immortal” Leonis. While the psychological profile of the boy points towards a weak link, he is too well-guarded to truly push at yet. No, the best way to get to him is to either manufacture parents for the boy and paint Leonis as a kidnapper, or reveal the truth behind MT productions, which Aldercapt will never allow.

No, Ardyn thinks as he stares at the report on the last, and oldest, of the little King of Light’s soulmates, none of the children shall be his starting point in breaking Noctis. This Nyx Ulric, however... A decade, at least, older than all of his other soulmates, with a psychological profile that paints him as a very honorable man. And what honorable man would feel comfortable with such young soulmates? Not to mention the difference between their stations! Yes, this is the perfect angle to begin chipping away at. Put enough pressure on Ulric and he’s sure to snap and do something hasty that would only end up hurting the others.

Ardyn looks up at Aldercapt and interrupts the poor technician that is still trying to explain away how one of the clones slipped out of their grasp. “I do believe I have a far better plan of attack, your Eminence,” he says flippantly, waving a hand towards the now sputtering technician. “Whatever trail Leonis left has no doubt gone almost a decade cold by this point, and fabricating parents for the clone will take time. But there is a far more susceptible target for us to begin with than the little mistake.”

Aldercapt finally pulls himself together and gives Ardyn his full attention. “Go on, Chancellor.”

Ardyn taps his fingers against Ulric’s report. “The eldest of the five. A mere refugee from Galahd, he’s sure to be uncomfortable and unsure of his position with the Prince and his cohorts. And no honorable man would feel in any way comfortable with such young soulmates. Yet look, what do you know, that is exactly how Glauca describes this Nyx Ulric. The others are too well guarded, yet here we have a very obvious weak link.” He grinned rakishly, glad to see the contemplation in Aldercapt’s eyes at the thought. “Wouldn’t it behoove us to make use of it?”

One of the other advisors in this drab council scoffs. “And how, pray tell, could we make use of it, Izunia? Assassination at this stage will be far too obvious.”

The look Ardyn gives that particular advisor could peel back layers of metal, it is that acidic. “Of course, assassination is out of the question,” he says, as if speaking to a young child who doesn’t understand simple math. “That is what we have Glauca for, once things settle down and Ulric gets this supposed Glaive regiment up and in the field. Arrange it so it looks like a mission accident and no one will ever suspect foul play. No, we have here an opportunity to break the Prince’s spirit before we break one of his bonds.” He spreads his hands and tilts his head as he adds, “Just put the right words into the right ears, and Ulric will break from the pressure of it all. And pressure-broken men become reckless ones, which means a fatal accident while on a mission will be more believable to any nosy little bugs in the Crownsguard.” He glances over to Aldercapt, and knows he’s won this round.

Yes, Shiva clearly had no idea what she was doing when she granted the King of Light four soulmates. It will just make breaking them all so much more fun for Ardyn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, if you feel like I got Luche and Tredd's characterizations wrong, _please_ feel free to tell me. I have (regrettably) not seen the Kingsglaive movie, as much as I want to because Nyx is my bae, and thus may not actually have a good grasp of their characters.  
> ...and even then, the Wiki mostly just calls them traitors in the personality section, which, y'know, I knew already, thanks.
> 
> Anywho, thanks for reading! Please Comment and/or Kudos, because it helps fuel my writing and drive away the clouds of depression!


	7. Chapter 7

Ignis is glad that his Majesty is willing to pay for the beads to be commissioned. From what he has heard, the craftsmen in question were very surprised to be receiving such a request from the Crown, but more than willing to take it. Likely for a combination of reasons, if what little of the Immigrant District Ignis has seen and what Sir Ostium has said is anything to go by. It is only the assurances of his Majesty that Marshall Leonis is handling a quiet investigation, and has been since Nyx’s unfair eviction, that stems Ignis from raising a giant fuss over the conditions down there.

He is also happy that Noctis, Gladio, and Prompto all agreed that if Nyx would have to abide by their traditions, even the slightest bit, then they would abide by his in turn. It is, after all, only fair. Prompto, surprisingly, was the most vocal advocate for that, despite how recently his addition to their group was. Then again, Prompto also has access to the Marshall’s notes on the investigation, and he can apparently con several Crownsguard into sharing non-vital information with him with only a look. Of all of them, Prompto is likely to know the extent of the injustice that Nyx has suffered due to his heritage, both because of that, and because of his own issues. Truly, Ignis is not sure why he’s even surprised that it is Prompto that is the most sympathetic of the situation.

He shakes his head and focuses on the matter at hand. The craftsmen sent a report saying that the beads are complete and ready to be picked up, and just in time, too, since they only have four more days before the celebration.

Ignis can only thank Ramuh for his patience, since Noctis went to the dance lessons as they were required to for the party and didn’t argue or try to get out of them.

He knocks on the door to the jewelers workshop his Majesty allowed the craftsmen to requisition for the commission, and he waits to be allowed inside. He knows the dangers of entering the jeweler’s workshop without permission, considering some of the chemicals needed to treat the creations that come out of them and the fumes they give off.

The door opens to reveal a scarred middle-aged man, who smiles at Ignis’s presence. “Ah, Heir Scientia, excellent, we just finished putting three of the sets onto the leather braids you asked for. Two necklaces and a bracelet, yes?”

“That is correct,” he answers, and steps inside when bid to. “Were there any troubles with the equipment?”

The crafter scoffs and waves Ignis’s worry away. “Nah, nothing we haven’t dealt with back in Galahd. Though I will say, being able to ply my trade again has been wonderful. Been so long I was almost worried I wouldn’t get the quality right, especially with the deadline.”

Ignis pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose and nods to the other craftsman in the room, a weathered young woman who, if he recalled correctly, is the glass blower of the two. “I see. Again, I apologize about the short deadline you were given to work in.”

The female crafter rolls her eyes. “It’s no trouble, Heir Scientia, we’ve had to work with stricter deadlines before, and with less compensation than his Majesty is providing. We’re more surprised that you agreed to go through with the tradition of wearing them yourselves. No offense,” she hastens to add, though Ignis just shakes his head.

“No, I understand. Nyx has been dealing with... quite a bit of heckling, since the revelation of our status as soulmates. It stands to reason that you are surprised by our decision, considering prior patterns of behavior thus far.” Ignis then shakes his head and sighs out, “Though I do find it sad that one would even think to not acknowledge and respect their soulmate’s cultures, it is almost expected at this point.”

The two crafters share weird looks between each other, before the male ushers Ignis over to a bench. “Well, either way, here they are. Now, we added strips of leather to the two loose sets, generally that gets braided in along with the beads themselves, but they can choose not to if it’s too much hassle. What do you think of them?”

Ignis inspects the beads with a critical eye, and finds himself highly impressed with the level of skill and detail presented, especially in the glass pieces. They have very tiny, intricate details in them, which would have had to be added while the glass was still hot and moldable, and yet those details are all so sharp and clear. And the metal components, while far less detailed than the glass, are sleek and smooth, and thick enough to not slip or break, which will be difficult enough to do considering his Majesty allowed the crafters to work with mithril for the beads themselves. “They’re stunning,” he says, hands grasping each other behind his back, his mind screaming that he might end up breaking the beads if he tries to touch. “Truly, I have never seen such detail in glass-blown pieces, especially ones this small. It boggles the mind that you have not found work utilizing your talents.”

The glass crafter shrugs. “Yes, well, no one’s been hiring, so I’ve had to resort to hunting out of the city to make ends meet, recently.”

Ignis straightens and turns to the glass crafter. He bows his head as he says, “Well, do not be surprised if his Majesty or another from inside the Citadel contacts you with another commission, or even to offer a sponsorship into art galleries to show off your work. That includes you as well, sir.”

“Ah, well,” the metal crafter says, scratching at the bridge of his nose as a flush mantles itself on his cheekbones. “Thank you for the compliment, Heir Scientia, but don’t expect us to hold our breaths.”

Ignis nods once. “Of course. Madeline has arranged for your final payments to be delivered to the Crownsguard stationed just inside the Citadel’s main doors, in your preferred manner of payment. Just check with the guards stationed there to receive it. Many thanks.”

Ignis smiles as the crafters both leave, and turns to gather up the beads from the work bench. He can’t wait to show these to Nyx.

* * *

Nyx stares at the almost misshapen piece of wood that he’s spent so long carving and painting, and feels like he’s choking on air.

It looks nothing like it should, nothing like he wants it to. This is supposed to represent Noctis, the Crystal of his Soul Mark, his Prince, it should be _perfect_.

Tears burn in the corners of his eyes as he sighs and leans forward on the countertop, rubbing his face with both hands. He feels like a terrible Galahdan, for not even being able to get this one thing right. Nyx has had images playing in his mind since he was a child, basing the beads around the shapes in his Mark, envisioning glinting azure glass catching in the light, silver gleaming in the form of a shield, all twined together into his soulmate braid. He has so many sketches of what he’s always wanted them to look like, the dagger made of glass and hanging from a clip, the barcode etched into a simple metal bead, and he pulled each one that survived out to study now that he’s found them all.

Except, well... he can’t very well commission anyone to make them. He doesn’t have that kind of money. Nor can he make them out of glass or metal himself; crafting, unfortunately, is not one of his strong points. He can carve, kind of, but the very thought of making the beads out of wood turns his stomach.

And now that he’s made the first one like that, he knows that this can’t be how he represents his soulmates. They deserve so much better than an off-colored, misshapen wooden bead.

He needs to figure this out, needs to find some way to make this work.

He doesn’t have the _time_. The celebration is literally in three days, not even a commission piece will be ready in time, and he’ll feel hollow if he puts in the soulmate braid without the beads, if Noctis and Ignis and Gladio and Prompto don’t have beads hanging from bracelets or necklaces, or even put into their own hair if they wished to.

It’s as he’s contemplating this, and swallowing down stomach acid as it rises in the back of his throat, that a knock sounds at his door. Nyx jerks his eyes up and watches as Ignis steps inside, holding a small bag in one hand. Nyx opens his mouth to question what the boy is doing here, and without Noctis, when Ignis holds up a hand. The bespectacled boy doesn’t say a word, merely walks up to Nyx in the kitchen area and holds out the bag for the man to take.

Nyx reaches out with a slightly shaking hand, his eyebrows furrowing together as he feels the slight weight within. He gently opens the velvet ties, and shakes out the contents into the palm of his opposite hand.

Glass and metal click together as they fall into his hand. The Crystal, the perfect shade of blue; the Shield, exactly as Nyx has always imagined it to be; the Dagger, the perfect mix of metal clasp and glass pendant; the Barcode, etched exactingly into metal with unblemished azure glass inlaid inside each of the lines; his own Kukri, pure glass with a metal clasp and gleaming in the light.

Nyx stares at the beads- _his Beads_ \- now sitting in his hand, exactly as he’s always imagined them, and looks back up at Ignis.

Ignis, who is smiling kindly at him, and just says, “Sir Ostium was kind enough to share your sketches and the names of traditional Galahdan metalworkers and glass blowers. Don’t worry, the rest of us have our own versions of the beads, even though most of our hair isn’t exactly the best for braiding.” He then holds up his wrist, where sitting proudly is a braided leather bracelet with the five beads snugly resting in the braid. “Don’t be surprised if Noct asks for your help in putting them into braids, though.”

Nyx lets the tears fall as a smile tugs at his lips.

“ _Thank you._ ”

* * *

Libertus knows he’s done the right thing when he sees Nyx the night of the celebration.

The adjustments to the suit fit him, the Glaive pauldrons adjusted so they had fur jutting out of both shoulders and his Ulric Blue ribbons hanging looped between them on his back, the tails hanging to around his fingertips on his right side, the traditional arm bands and the thigh band done up in blacks and silvers and blues, and it goes rather well with the suit he chose. Slim black, obviously, but the vest sits asymmetrically, and the tie clearly specialty-made just for Nyx since it, too, is the right shade of Ulric Blue.

But the thing that cements Libs’s change of heart about Nyx’s soulmates are the five new, twinkling beads in the man’s soulmate braid, and the fact that the kids are all wearing their own. Amicitia and Argentum went for the necklaces, which rest outside their shirts rather proudly, while Scientia’s bracelet can be seen peaking out from underneath his shirt cuff, the combination of metal and glass easily catching the eye despite its discrete location.

The Prince, though... the Prince has a soulmate braid of his own, done close to his scalp along the left hairline from temple to behind the ear, where his beads rest in full view of anyone who looks at it. As if he’s so proud of Nyx’s cultural marking that he doesn’t care what his nobles or his father might think of the braid. And by the look on the Prince’s face, that’s exactly how he’s feeling, too.

There’s humoring someone of their culture, and there’s fully intending to honor and abide by it. And these kids, of which the oldest hasn’t even hit puberty yet, are showing that they intend to do just that.

So, Libs feels something in his chest relax as he watches the five before the ball begins, and he doesn’t realize a sappy smile is on his face until Nyx glances over and notices him. But hey, Nyx is practically his brother, he can be ridiculously sappy over his young soulmates truly accepting all parts of him and not just the ones that they like. It’s a big worry of Libertus’s, that those kids will one day decide that they don’t want the parts of Nyx that make him Galahdan.

Too many of their fellow refugees have been forced to sanitize themselves already just to get what meagre-paying jobs they can find. It would literally destroy Nyx if he’s forced to do the same.

Libs accepts the punch to the shoulder with good grace. “That’s for breaking into my apartment, you ass,” Nyx mutters even as he pulls Libs into a bone-crushing hug. “Thanks. I owe you so much for this.”

Libs snorts and pats Nyx on the back. “Don’t mention it, Hero. Someone needed to take some stress off ya, and the kids had no way of knowing what the issue would be.” He pulls away and grins. “Now get back to your soulmates, idiot. We’ll catch up after this party’s over in your place, I’ll bring the beer.”

Nyx’s smile is brighter than any star in the sky.

* * *

Wesk steps into the ball room with a grumbling Cid- dressed in his “fancy” jacket with only the Coernix oil stains and a brand new hat that Wesk personally shoved on his head so he wasn’t wearing that threadbare monstrosity he had- and a glowing Cindy, for whom Wesk is glad the dress he got for her fit appropriately, following along behind him. He knows that Regis has kept something important from him, but he hadn’t survived as his old friend’s Retainer without a large well of patience and willpower. So, he’ll wait. Regis can’t hide whatever it is from Wesk forever.

For now, though, he has an Immortal to hunt down and shake for information on why the Impertinent returned.

Though he has the distinct feeling that Cid knows about it already.

Luckily, hunting Cor down isn’t nearly as difficult as Wesk expected it to be. The man is waiting patiently, though clearly nervous, by Regis and Clarus, who are busy fending off several of the vultures of the court, by the looks of it. Wesk almost feels sorry for them, but he pushes that to the side as he steps up to the youngest of their group of friends. “Cor, it’s so nice to see you again,” Wesk says, his smile sharply showing his teeth as he slings an arm around the Marshall.

“Weskham,” Cor says neutrally, but Wesk can see the slight panic in his eyes. Interesting. “To what honor do I owe your attention before you have seen to his Majesty?”

Wesk almost rolls his eyes. Almost. “Oh, you know what _honor_ draws me here before seeing to Regis, _Cor_ , my _dear_ friend,” he stresses, meeting Cor’s gaze with an unimpressed one of his own. “Why was I informed of the Impertinent’s recent return?”

If anything, Cor looks even more panicked. “He didn’t tell you?” the younger man hisses, gaze cutting over to Regis before he groans. “Oh, of course he didn’t, he’s an ass like that,” Cor then mutters, rubbing at his temple as if to alleviate a headache. “Alright, before you crucify me, you will agree with my reasoning,” he hastily says, as if that will lessen his likely punishment.

“Enlighten me, then,” Wesk says, stepping back from Cor slightly as he crosses his arms.

Before Cor can even begin to explain himself, a small form with blonde hair ducks behind Cor’s legs. “Dad, hide me, the noble kids are giving me weird looks,” the child rushes to say, somehow managing to cower easily in his hiding place despite his slight case of obesity.

However, that is not the important factoid in Wesk’s mind. No, that comes from what the child _called_ Cor. “Dad?” he chokes out, staring at Cor with raised eyebrows and an incredulous look.

Cor... just looks constipated and resigned. “I had my reasons, Wesk,” he says. “Very good ones, even.”

“And I’m sure you think they’re good reasons, however- _Dad_?” Wesk can’t help but ask again.

Cor winces as the child gains a sudden look of understanding. “Oh, is this another of your friends that you didn’t tell about me, Dad? I swear only Auntie Monica and Uncle Petra really knew about me.”

“Yes. Prompto, this is Weskham Armaugh, the cackling one is Cid Sophiar. You know, the ones from the pictures,” Cor gently says as he places a hand on top of blonde hair. “Wesk, this is Prompto, my adopted son and the reason his Majesty called you.”

Wesk twitches. Another twitch crops up as Cid’s camera clicks. “Oh, no wonder Reggie asked me not ta tell ya, Wesk! Ah, this is some prime blackmail righ’ here.”

He turns a glare at the oldest of their group of friends. “Be careful, Cid, otherwise you, too, shall be feeling my wrath before you leave,” he threatens ominously, before pinning Cor in place. “No wonder Regis called you the Impertinent. How long ago was Prompto adopted?”

Yet again, Prompto speaks up before Cor can. “I’m gonna turn ten in October, Mister Armaugh.”

“Thank you, young man.” Wesk turns back to Cor, who has shrunken in on himself. “ _Ten_ , Cor. That’s nine birthdays and Winter Solstice’s I have to make up for.” He puts his hand over his heart and states, “I thought we were friends, Cor. I am hurt.”

“And I have enemies, Wesk,” Cor hisses. “Enemies that wouldn’t think twice about using my son to get to me.

Prompto seems to glance between the three adults- well, two adults and one cackling old fart, Wesk mentally corrects himself- and says, “Riiight. I’m gonna go hide with Noctis and Nyx now. You two have fun, don’t punish Dad too badly, he’s been ribbed by his Majesty and Lord Amicitia ever since they found out.”

Wesk watches the boy run off, and looks Cor dead in the eyes. “I like this one, you raised him right,” he states, before grabbing Cor by the arm. “Now, let’s go get some privacy so I can explain to you _exactly_ why keeping quiet about this was a bad idea.”

Cor, pale and shaky at the connotations, asks, “What about checking on his Majesty?”

Wesk scoffs. “Oh please. I have _time_ to make sure Regis is not hiding anything from me.” He grins at Cor’s confusion. “After all, I took two _months_ off just to come see my old friends. It has been _so long_ , after all.”

“Have fun, Wesk,” Cid catcalls as Wesk drags Cor off. “I’m gonna see where Reggie’s stashed the booze in this place.”

* * *

Nyx is torn between wanting to hide away on a balcony and taking a large amount of ironic humor from the current situation.

He’s been informed before the ball began that he must at least try and mingle for one hour before he can hide away from the stuffed-up pretentious nobles, or face Leonis’s wrath in training. Apparently, as a high-ranking member of the Lucian army, Nyx will be expected to attend any events like this whenever he’s inside the City, something that he vaguely remembers Drautos having to suffer through as well. This is twice over considering Nyx’s position as Noctis’s soulmate. So, here he is, standing amongst a group of nobles who thus far have kept their contempt towards refugees contained long enough to discuss the war efforts with someone that has been on the front lines and has constant, non-professional contact with others who are just returning from it. It’s a rather refreshing conversation, discussing tactics and non-confidential mission outcomes with someone whose only real idea of war is likely limited to chess or after-action reports of the battles. Being able to inform nobles of why a mission failed in the way it did when they got details wrong or were just making baseless assumptions, and not get in trouble for doing so, is rather invigorating.

That isn’t to say that that he’s enjoying himself, though. He’d much rather be back in his apartment with Libs and a few beers already, instead of essentially talking business with people who will never even see the front lines in their life. Which is why he’s glad when Noctis decides to hide behind him, since the nobles don’t feel comfortable talking about the war around a child, despite Noctis being the Prince.

“You looked like you needed an out,” Noctis whispers as soon as they’re left alone. “Come on, one of the balconies by dad is empty right now, we can go hide there.”

Nyx counts the time he’s been around the nobles, and decides that he’s been around them long enough for Leonis to not kick his ass too hard in the next training session. “Lead on, little prince,” he says, letting the ten-year-old drag him off towards the balcony. “The kids giving you as much trouble as their parents have been giving me?”

“Probably,” Noctis admits, hopping up onto the railing so he can swing his legs as they talk. “Ignis says that they’re just emulating their parents’ behaviors, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t right butts.” He pouts as he adds, “And I have to be polite to them, even when they aren’t being polite to me. It’s annoying.”

Nyx snorts as he leans his forearms against the railing. “Yeah, I get that,” he says wistfully, staring out over the view of the gardens at night. “I know those nobles I was talking with when you found me likely had to almost strangle themselves to even be as civil as they were with me. Six, it felt good to be able to correct their knowledge of the front lines without getting in trouble. Drautos would have had my head if I were still under his command and made those comments.”

“It wouldn’t have been that bad, though, right? I mean the Captain is supposed to be the one to protect his men in the eyes of the Court, right? That’s how Ignis described it to me, when I asked what your duties would be, so I could try and not interfere with them.”

Nyx blinks at Noctis, who looks innocently confused, and thinks that over. No one has explained the position of Captain to him like that, though he gets the feeling that Elsheart and Leonis might have been waiting until he came to that realization on his own- or already expected him to know it from observing Drautos. But he can see how the explanation fits. From what he’s picked up in his lessons, the commander of a military regiment like the Glaive is supposed to have the freedom to turn down an order, even from the King, if it could bring harm to their subordinates. It makes sense that it would extend to protecting how the Court views both the regiment and the subordinates.

He shakes his head. “But what if the best way to protect your regiment is to punish the one who made the wrong comment to a noble?” he asks.

Noctis hums, and keeps swinging his legs even as he stares at his feet. “I... I guess that makes sense, sort of. But shouldn’t you back up the commenter anyways? Since they likely did the right thing?”

Nyx scoffs and shakes his head again. “Doesn’t work that way, little Prince,” he bitterly says as his eyes lower to his hands. He rubs along one of his tattoos, mind drifting off in thought. “At least, I don’t think it does,” he mutters.

Silence stretches between them for a time, broken only by the faint mutterings, laughter, and music coming from the ball room. Nyx closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, almost feeling like he’s back in Galahd again. He could easily tune out the party noises into that of the waterfall near his village, the late summer temperature just missing the humidity, the scent of the spices in the air dragging him right back home... at least, mentally.

And then Noctis cries out, “Prompto! There you are, c’mere!”

Nyx sighs as his eyelids flutter open. He turns and smiles at the youngest of his soulmates as Prompto steps out onto the balcony. “Hey Noctis, Nyx,” Prompto says as he approaches. “Dad ended up cornered by some of his friends from out of the City, so I figured I’d come hide with you two.”

Noctis brightens. “Friends of Uncle Cor’s? That don’t live in the City?”

Prompto nods as he moves to settle on the railing between them. “Yeah, Dad said their names were Weskham and Cid. Mister Weskham wasn’t all that happy that Dad hid me from him, something about birthdays and solstices.”

Noctis’s grin looks like it will split his face. “Oh, this will be great. Dad’s been wanting to keep ‘Mother Weskham’ out of Insomnia ever since he started needing the cane along with his knee brace regularly. Something about never hearing the end of it if Weskham learned of it.”

Nyx shakes his head at Noctis, before he turns his gaze towards the entrance to the balcony as Ignis storms through it, shoulders tense and expression fixed. “Noct, switch with me before I murder someone,” Ignis says, his voice strained.

Noctis blinks and pales. “Oh dear. Iggy’s about to snap. What happened?”

“Idiot children making derogatory comments. Switch with me, otherwise I will not be responsible for my actions,” Ignis bites out.

Nyx helpfully says, “I think I see Gladio just inside the ball room if you want to use him as a human shield, little Prince.”

“Right, Iggy, you relax out here with Nyx and Prompto, I’ll go dance with Gladio,” Noctis says as he jumps down from the railing. “Just remember their faces and names so you can plot some form of revenge on them later.”

Ignis takes a deep breath, and forces his shoulders to loosen. “Yes, revenge. Ruin them in a way that they can’t do anything against the Crown. Good idea, Noct.”

Nyx doesn’t think that it shouldn’t be as amusing as he finds the situation, but it is. There’s just something about how deathly serious Ignis sounds about ruining whoever pissed him off that he finds viscerally enjoyable.

...then again, if he could have done the same with some of the nobles he’s been forced to deal with before, he definitely would have. In a heartbeat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading~! Please comment and kudos on the way out!


	8. Chapter 8

Cor is willing to admit, Ulric actually makes more than a halfway decent officer by the end of the allotted six months. Kid’s cocky, but willing to do anything he needs to in order to ensure the maximum number of his men return home to their families. And he works hard, to the point where if Cor doesn’t know better he’d be thinking Ulric had taken time to train outside of their allotted schedule. His archery is more than passable, enough to be used in combat and give Ulric a more specific target to warp in close with, and switching over to Noctis’s magic has enhanced what he can do. Likely because of the soulmate thing.

Ulric has access to the Armory, and so doesn’t have to worry about his quiver emptying itself in the middle of his damn acrobatics. He can also quickly switch between his weapons, a skill that Cor heavily trained him in to the point where Ulric can be holding his bow in one second and his kukri’s in the next, even in mid-warp. His elemental attacks have risen considerably, though he still can’t touch Regis in a full-on black mage duel, and his agility and speed have greatly improved. And he can even hold his own against Cor with only his weapons without getting nicked more than five times.

There’s also the non-business side of things that have proceeded rather smoothly. Ulric has comfortably fallen into the role of an older brother figure to Noctis, Ignis, Prompto, and Gladio, which makes Cor feel slightly better about the whole thing. More often than not, you can find Noctis in Ulric’s rooms whenever the Glaive is there, completing his homework or just relaxing in the Galahdan’s rooms. Ignis can also be found there, as a consequence, and Ulric has taken to teaching the boy a few Galahdan recipes that ‘can be shared’, whatever that means. Gladio often gets Ulric to spar with him whenever they have time or are training Noctis over the weekends, and Prompto has reported to having dragged Ulric into several arcades during his rather rare days off and spending time with the man, then.

Either way, Cor likes what he’s seen so far.

And so, Cor calls this a success. Especially since the last month of Ulric’s training happened while Mother Weskham has been breathing down Cor’s neck.

Then again, Wesk has been so preoccupied with Cor, Regis has yet to figure out that their friend is still in the Citadel.

Thoughts of Wesk turning his ire onto Regis aside, Cor would still like to get Ulric some practical experience under his belt before sending him off to lead a regiment of Glaives. Which is why he then approaches Regis and asks, “How plausible would it be to take Ulric out beyond the Wall to get some practical experience into him? Complete a few hunts, some missions close to the front lines, see how well he’s actually improved in a not-so-controlled environment.”

Regis side-eyes Cor for a moment, before he snorts. “Ah. Cor the Restless is returning, is he? Just make sure Sir Ulric is in one piece when you return, and it can only be for a month. That gives me time to look over the current Glaives to see who can be transferred.”

Cor nods. “Of course, your Majesty.” He turns on his heel and strides out of the office, smirking as Madeline enters immediately after him. And so, the tyrannical wyvern has descended upon his Majesty with her weapon of choice: the dreaded paperwork demons.

The best decision in Cor’s life, hands down, was sending Madeline to be Regis’s secretary. Well, right up there with sneaking his way onto Regis’s road trip.

This current one might end up ranking in the top ten, though.

Ulric, when he learns of Cor’s plans, stares for a second before groaning. “So, essentially, a month-long camping trip across the front lines with the Immortal,” he summarizes, rather aptly in Cor’s opinion.

“Essentially,” Cor says. “Make sure to pack appropriately, I’ll contact my hunter buddies to see what hunts are out in the area.”

“Why am I not surprised that you have friends in the hunters?” Ulric muses to himself. He shakes out of it quickly though, and waves. “Right, I’ll get to packing and telling the chibi’s the news. I’ll meet you in the garage, then?”

Cor only nods and starts walking off to his office. He needs to make sure Monica knows of his future absence, if only so she doesn’t pile his office full of paperwork like the last time he slipped off without telling her first.

Knowing his friend, she just might simply to spite him.

* * *

Nyx is surprised he manages to get to the garage without suddenly acquiring a Royal, or otherwise, limpet to his leg. Ignis and Gladio at least understood the point behind the exercise, which was to get Nyx better experience with his new abilities and skills out in the field. Noctis and Prompto, however, did not like the sound of Nyx being away for a month, and only knowledge that Nyx is going to be with Leonis almost all the time managed to keep the Prince and the Chibi-Chocobo from having too much of an issue with it. Clearly enough for Nyx to get out of the Citadel unmolested by chibi soulmates.

He scans the garage for Leonis, and raises an eyebrow over the choice of vehicle. It looks like a piece of junk, but then again, they are going out beyond the walls and there are, like, none of the sleek and fancy cars that he sees almost every day in the Crown City. So, perhaps not too surprising, all things considered.

The fact that there is a beat up old clunker in the Royal garage definitely is a surprise, though.

Leonis looks up at Nyx and raises an eyebrow. “What took you so long?”

“Keeping any potential limpets from attaching,” Nyx says, slinging his bag into the backseat. “So, what’re we doing on this little road trip? Not that I particularly mind, to be honest, I’ve been getting antsy recently.”

Leonis snorts and slides into the driver’s seat, which prompts Nyx to take the passengers. “I could tell,” Leonis drily states. “We’re mostly going to be doing hunts and missions that will allow me to see how well you’ve improved in real life battles, as opposed to in a safety controlled training room.” Nyx nods, seeing the point in that, but it doesn’t tell him any more than what Leonis already said. “Our first stop’s going to be the Hammerhead Outpost. Cid’s likely to point us towards some good hunts in the area. If not, then he’s likely to know where to start looking,” Leonis continues as he starts up the car. “After that, well, we can’t head directly out to the front lines, but otherwise we take any mission Monica or Clarus send our way.”

Nyx worries at his bottom lip, before he banishes his worries. Leonis has brought up his lack of need for a binder before, he knows already about Nyx being trans. He sighs and lets his head tip back. “Right. Well. Good thing I’ve taken to keeping certain necessities in the Armory,” he mutters.

Leonis just snorts again, but keeps quiet.

They get almost all the way out of the security checkpoints leading out of the Citadel before Nyx gets a clue as to the real reason why Leonis wants out of the Crown City so badly. Because there at the final checkpoint is Weskham Armaugh, the King’s former Retainer. “Going somewhere, Cor?” Armaugh asks lightly as he leans against the hood of the car to peer through the open window at Leonis.

“His Majesty has cleared myself and Sir Ulric time out of the City to test his abilities,” Leonis answers smoothly. “Consider this opportunity to finally alert Regis to the fact that you have yet to leave. He seems to still be under the impression that you only stayed for a single week.”

Armaugh raises an eyebrow. “Even with all the heckling I’ve been giving you?”

“You know how dense his Majesty can be sometimes.”

Nyx just glances between the two in shock at the conversation they’re having. Seriously? He was being used as an excuse to get away from the Mom Friend?

If only that worked with Libs. Nyx would have so abused that at any point in his and Libs’ friendship.

Armaugh sighs and rubs at his forehead. “Well, I suppose I can call your punishment over with. I do believe I’ve seen our King walking with a cane in addition to that knee brace for the past two weeks, anyways.”

“Have fun nagging over him, Mother Weskham,” Leonis says in a light voice, to which Armaugh scoffs as he straightens.

“Oh, get going, you impertinent ass.”

As Leonis rolls up the window and drives on once more, Nyx debates on whether he really wants to question what just occurred or not. Halfway out of the city, he decides that ignorance is better, in this case.

* * *

Wesk swans inside of Regis’s office, waving at his charming secretary who just smiles him through, and basks in the look of dawning horror etching itself into Regis’s expression. “Regis, my dear friend, I’m so sorry I have not been showering you with my attention for the past month, Cor had me _very_ distracted with his punishment, you see,” he says, grinning wide as he approaches the large stone desk and settles on the edge.

“Wesk, I thought you had left three weeks ago,” Regis says and leans back in his chair, a faux-genial smile overtaking his horror-tinged face. “What are you still doing here, surely your job requires your presence back home.”

Wesk smirks, having driven Regis unknowingly into a corner. “Why ever would I only take a week off when ‘home’ is all the way in Altissia and I haven’t seen my old friends in some time? Do you truly think so little of me, Regis? I want to spend time with you, catch up, you know, what friends do.” His smirk turns genial as he adds, “I’ve missed you, Regis. Can’t I take a couple months off to check in on your health and well-being?”

Regis stares at Wesk for a second, before he leans his forehead against his hand and rubs at the temples. “Of course, you pull this card on me,” he mutters around a sigh. “I suppose you may do as you will. Not like I can hope to stop you. Though I do feel the need to remind you, you’re no longer my Retainer, Wesk. I am no longer your responsibility.”

“Until you learn to actually take care of yourself and our friendship has been broken, burned to the ground, and otherwise destroyed beyond repair, Regis, you will _always_ be my responsibility,” Wesk states with absolute certainty. “Speaking of, I seem to recall you using that cane of yours with worrying frequency over the past few weeks. Is there something you wish to tell me about that?”

Regis pales so rapidly Wesk makes an idle thought to ask after his recent blood pressure readings. “Just the old injury acting up, you know how it is,” he says as his eyes refocus onto his paperwork and idly waves his left hand.

“Regis,” Wesk says in that sharp tone that, if you listen to his other friends, mean he’s two seconds away from going through the final transformation into Mother Weskham.

“Really, Wesk, it’s just that. The doctors’ have already looked it over, all they can suggest is the addition of the cane when I need it,” Regis says, giving Wesk an unamused look.

“And what’s the reason behind the worsening condition of your knee?”

“Wesk...”

“Regis, I swear to Titan, if it’s because of you holding up the Old Wall like you are...”

“There’s nothing anyone can do about it, Wesk, relax.”

Wesk stares at Regis with narrowed eyes for several seconds. “Right. Nothing to be done. Looks like I’m going to be experimenting with potions for the next month. Might even ask for another month from the Altissian’s just to make sure I have enough time to make a proper potion to help with that.”

Regis’s groan goes unnoticed by Wesk, who stands and moves to leave the office, mind already swirling with adjustments he can make to the potions he devised to negate the effects of Lucian magic to reverse whatever is being done to his King’s knee.

* * *

Cor pulls into the parking lot of Hammerhead Outpost, praying that Cid hasn’t noticed them so they can quickly refuel and find some hunts nearby to whet Ulric’s teeth on. Alas, it is not meant to be, for as Cor steps out of the ‘clunker’, out from the garage walks a very familiar old man.

“Well, if it ain’t the Baby Immortal. Managed ta give Mother Weskham the slip, eh?” Cid Sophar says, grinning in ways that clearly state how much of a little shit he knows he’s being.

Cor growls under his breath and ignores Ulric’s curious expression. “Quit calling me that, Sophar.”

“Sorry, t’ain’t happenin’. Now, don’ think we were properly introduced earlier. Cid Sophar, th’ only normal friend Reggie’s ever had and th’ Prince’s godfather.”

Ulric glances over at Cor, back to Cid, and gulps. “Uh, hello?” Ulric says, waving awkwardly at Cid. Cor mentally cackles at the evaluating stare Cid gives Ulric, who shifts slightly, a wary chuckle leaving his throat.

“Eh, s’pose he’ll be fine, after all. Looks properly chastised already, I take it Reggie already got ahold o’ him, then?”

“Practically first thing,” Cor admits. He then shakes his head. “Listen, we’re just here to find some hunts and stock up on curatives. As nice as it is to see you again, Cid, we’ve got to get going.”

Cid snorts. “Not in that hunk a junk yer not,” he grunts, stomping over to the front of the ‘clunker’. “This thing ‘ere’s lookin’ worse than the time Reggie and you lot showed up at my garage.”

“Cid, really, this isn’t necessary,” Cor says, almost openly panicking now. “The Crownsguard’s best mechanics have been keeping the car in shape-“

Cid tears open the front hood and raises an eyebrow. “Wrong, wrong, wrong,” he starts muttering, pointing at various parts of the engine.

Cor grunts out a sigh and shakes his head. “Just don’t have a full Sophar meltdown,” he mutters, resigned to the fact that Cid has kidnapped the car.

“I make no promises.”

“Well,” Cor says as he turns to Ulric, “we’re going to be here a while. Come on, let’s check with the tipster.”

“Uh, right,” Ulric says, staring at Cid as the old man pulls- oh Astrals, he still has access to the Armory and that damn wrench? Cor masks a shudder of horror that rolls down his spine and makes a note to warn Regis and Clarus of the fact should they ever call Cid back to the Citadel again. Ulric grabs Cor’s attention by asking, “So, what’s a ‘full Sophar meltdown’?”

Cor rolls his eyes as he leads the way to the diner. “It’s when he starts tossing parts over his shoulders and ranting at the incompetence of ‘baby mechanics’, as he calls anyone who cannot do the job at the same level as him,” he explains. “First time his Majesty, Clarus, Wesk, and I met Cid, he flew into one of those over the state the Regalia was in, and then demanded to join the trip just so he could make sure it stayed in working order. Didn’t exactly give us any other choice in the matter.”

Ulric pauses in the way that Cor has come to learn means that he’s mentally scrambling for some piece of trivia or another (usually related to Regis, but Cor won’t call the boy out on it). “Wait, is he the civvie that beat Lord Amicitia in a fair fight with a wrench?”

“As I said, he didn’t give us a choice,” Cor deadpans, and ignores the muffled snickers from Ulric. Because, yeah, Cor admits he laughed too when Cid beat Clarus up with a wrench way back when. He shakes his head as he steps inside the diner, banishing the memories. He eyes the young, scrappy looking tipster behind the counter, and gets the sinking feeling that Cid adopted a stray in this one. An anxious stray, if how the boy jumps when he notices Cor and Ulric is any indication.

“Oh! Er, uh, what can I do you folks for?” the tipster says, eyes wide and jumping between the two.

Cor leans into the counter. “What hunts are available in the area?”

The tipster blinks and gains a slightly relieved look. “Here you go, sir. These varmints have been causing no end of trouble recently.”

Cor nods as he accepts the stack of wanted posters, eyes scanning the sheets intently. “Alright, we’ll start with something easy to get you on your feet, for now,” Cor says, glancing up at Ulric. His eyebrow shoots up when Ulric just snorts and shakes his head.

“You do realize I’m already in the Meldacio Hunter database, right? Have been since I was thirteen.” Ulric grins, which means Cor’s surprise is clear on his face. “All Galahdan Hunter’s are in there, we just don’t wear the tags.” He flicks one of his braids and says, “We wear our achievements openly.”

Cor eyes the braid meaningfully, starting to get an idea of Galahdan culture with that comment. So, the braids are important, he remembers that his most recent one went in right before the celebration where Wesk finally showed up, and at least that one indicates his status as a Hunter. Too bad Cor doesn’t know how to read the braid to figure that out. Instead of questioning, he pushes the wanted posters over to Ulric and says, “Fine. Find something in your skill range, Ulric, and we’ll go from there.”

Ulric practically dives into the stack with glee, as an older gentleman pokes his head out of the back of the diner. “Wait, did you say Ulric? As in Sender Ulric, the White Coeurl of Galahd?”

Ulric shrugs. “Yeah, that’s my dad.” Both of Cor’s eyebrows shoot up when he catches Ulric’s muttered, “Please no kitten comments, please no kitten comments...”

“Kitten comments?” he asks in an undertone.

Ulric grimaces, eyes glued to the wanted posters. “Well, dad was called the White Coeurl, and he was more than a little famous. What sort of nickname do you think I had growing up?”

Before Cor can answer, the older gentleman laughs and says, “Well, if anyone can handle some of the harder varmint’s in that list, it’d be an Ulric. Rumor is that huntin’s in the blood.”

Ulric grins at the older gentleman as he pulls out a rather tough wanted poster from the stack. “Nah, we just start training as soon as we can walk and hold a dagger properly. So, where can I find this bad boy?”

The tipster whistles between his teeth and eyes Ulric. “Y’sure you can handle that one?”

Ulric’s grin widens. “Hell yeah. I mean, look at the size of those teeth.” If Cor wasn’t as trained as he is, he’d mistake Ulric’s comment for nerves. Instead, he can very clearly read the currents of excitement in the boy’s voice.

Maybe he might prove to be a decent Hunter, after all.

Cor will have to watch this hunt carefully.

* * *

Ignis finds himself cornered by one Weskham Armaugh one week into Nyx’s month-long field assignment. “So, you’re the poor sod in charge of taking care of a Lucis Caelum,” Mister Armaugh says, mirth dancing in dark eyes.

He still stiffens as if insulted. “Perhaps.”

Mister Armaugh snorts and holds up his hands. “Hey, now, I just want to offer up some tips on the care and keeping of the Lucis Caelum line. Goodness knows, having to wrangle Regis enough times, I’ve got plenty of experience that your tutors likely don’t know.”

He raises an eyebrow, but contemplates the offer. It is true, he has had to scramble to uphold his duties to Noctis at times. And the tutors his Uncle assigned to him have only ever been able to give him generalized information regarding the duties as the Crown Prince’s Retainer. However, Mister Armaugh is noted to be his Majesty’s Retainer, before he left his services and moved away from the Crown City some years ago. He would know better than anyone how to... properly handle the chaos that follows after the line of Lucis.

“Very well,” Ignis says. “I will gladly accept whatever wisdom you have to offer. Like how to trick Noctis into eating his vegetables.”

Mister Armaugh’s lips twitch. “Hiding them in baked goods always worked with Regis.”

“Noctis likes to watch me cook, there is no way to hide their inclusion.”

“Then I wish you luck on that front, young Scientia,” Mister Armaugh diplomatically states. “Now, perhaps we should take this somewhere a bit more comfortable than out in the halls like this. There is quite a bit I have to share, if his Highness is anything like Regis.”

Ignis nods and follows along behind Mister Armaugh as he leads the way towards a secluded corner of the gardens. Ignis takes a seat on one of the benches and turns halfway to face Mister Armaugh on another. “I am all ears, Mister Armaugh.”

The elderly man chuckles and holds up a hand. “Weskham, please, I keep looking over my shoulder whenever I’m called Mister Armaugh expecting my father to be there. Now, what all has your Lucis Caelum done to your knowledge so far?”

Ignis frowns. “Well, Noctis has been trained in the use of his Armory since he was five, as all of his line are according to his Majesty, and I have been able to access it for two years now. Before the attack last year, he was positively a bright ball of sunshine, constantly active due to the amount of magic in his young body. More recently, however, he has taken to napping more, and has been rather shy and skittish since the attack. The only other thing I can think of is his distaste for vegetables.”

Mister Armaugh sighs and rubs at his face. “Well, either he’s better than Regis, or just better at hiding it. If I recall correctly, the Lucian magic tends to wear on its user, which might explain the naps, Regis was a sucker for them growing up. The thing that really worries me is if he picked up the Lucis Caelum’s dirty little habit that Regis has.”

“Dirty little habit?”

The look Mister Armaugh gives Ignis is almost dead-looking, as if he has aged twenty years in a single second. “The inane need to pick up the most useless bits of junk and other shiny objects off the ground and squirrel them away inside their Armory. Back in the day, we called Regis a walking bank note because of how much he somehow managed to hide in there, and according to him he picked it up from King Mors. I dread to think of what his Armory looks like now that he’s been confined to the Citadel, or what he has taken to doing to quell the urges.”

Ignis blinks rapidly, surprised at the words Mister Armaugh has spoken. His Majesty, a hoarding problem? One that might have been passed along the family? Suddenly the random complaints from the other nobles’ children about missing items after they upset Noctis, or Ignis himself, in some manner makes so much more sense. “Ah. I fear Noctis may indeed have that, but has it turned towards nicking items off our... _peers_ in retribution for comments they make,” he says, and gains a groan from Mister Armaugh.

“Right. Well, there’s not much you can do about it, if he’s stealing things from nobles. Doubtful any pawn shop would even purchase it, much less any other shop you try to hand it off to,” Mister Armaugh says as he shudders. “That’s likely what Regis has been doing, though. I dread to think of how he might be able to fill the treasury multiple times over at this rate, it’s been decades since he was confined to the Citadel.”

Ignis pales and nods, shuddering himself at the thought. “Is there anything else you might suggest to help corral Noctis, Mister Weskham?”

He’s given a dirty look for adding the title to Mister Armaugh’s first name, but the elderly man lets it go. “Well, it’s always a good idea to keep a Lucis Caelum occupied, especially when they start getting bored. They have this other habit, you see, where they find the biggest bit of trouble they can and jump straight into the thick of it. It gets worse when they’re bored.”

Ignis winces, knowing that Noctis has likely been getting very bored recently. “That... might be a bit more difficult, Mister Weskham. Between school, training, and what duties the Crownsguard give me, I am, unfortunately, rather busy of late. The same with Gladiolus.”

Mister Armaugh snorts. “Isn’t there some investigation that you can drag him along on? Considering you’re likely considered a rookie or intern, you can bring your charge along with you, depending on the investigation you get saddled with.”

Something deep inside Ignis stills. An investigation that he could bring Noctis along on. Something that he would want to assist with anyways.

 “Thank you, Mister Weskham, you have just given me an idea,” Ignis says as he stands and brushes stray bits of dirt off his pants.

Mister Armaugh smiles. “I figured that would be the case. Take care, young Scientia.”

Ignis nods and turns to enter the Citadel proper once more.

The Marshall does still have that quiet investigation going. Perhaps Ignis can speak with Miss Elsheart, to see if himself and Gladiolus could be of assistance... and bring both Noctis and Prompto along with them.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All right, so. Serious topics going on.
> 
> 1) We're getting a good look into that investigation Regis asked Cor to start a while back in Chapter 4. Just to let everyone know, I am relying heavily on personal headcanon when it comes to the Immigrant District. Let's face it, there has to be some real reason behind the Glaive's honest belief that to the rest of Insomnia, they don't matter. That's going to be addressed, though I won't go into too much detail right off the bat, just enough to hint at how bad I think it actually was. (Like, seriously, bars over the windows and doors? Cracks in the walls? Shoebox apartments? Not to mention I doubt I ever saw a single fire escape in what little I've seen of Kingsglaive.)
> 
> 2) We're finding out who, exactly, is going to end up being transferred under Nyx's command, not like there's much of a question over that.
> 
> And the not so serious 3) What Nyx will be bringing back for the Chibi Brigade, as suggested last chapter in one of the lovely comments everyone's left me.
> 
> I hope you enjoy~

Noctis pouts and kicks his leg out, letting it pendulum from where it hung off the side of the sofa he’s lying on.

Things have gotten to be so boring without Nyx around. He enjoyed watching Nyx and Uncle Cor spar each other, watching as their interactions changed from professional to something tinged with honest respect, as Nyx slowly became less and less terrified of Uncle Cor. That’s not to say that Nyx isn’t still absolutely terrified of Uncle Cor, just that his respect for the man is beginning to outweigh the terror.

Noctis especially enjoyed the times when Nyx would help him with his homework, or warily agree to be player four with Noctis, Gladio, and Prompto (usually when they couldn’t rope Ignis into being it), or coach Ignis through the surprisingly complicated recipes he brought from Galahd with him.

Now, though... Well. His days have been restricted to school, lessons, homework, and playing games with Gladio and Prompto while Ignis helps Iris with her readings. And it doesn’t help that Gladio and Ignis have been initiated early into the Crownsguard, so they’ve had more training to do and other, smaller duties allowed for their ages.

He knows it was bound to happen at some point, but that doesn’t mean he expected how lonely not having Ignis there almost all the time he’s in the Citadel. Yeah, it means he gets more time with Prompto, often going down to the arcades with Monica or someone else watching over them, but he misses Ignis the most. He’s been around Ignis since he was three, of course he misses him more than the others. Though he does still miss spending time with Gladio, getting the older boy addicted to video games and trading trash-talk as they try to beat the lives out of each other in Super Smash Brothers Brawl.

His pout is almost set to critical meltdown when Ignis steps inside Nyx’s apartment, where he’s taken to spending time recently in order to feel close to their missing member. “Hey, Iggy,” he says as he fiddles with his zipper pull.

“I have an idea,” Ignis says, which grabs Noctis’s attention instantly. “Miss Elsheart said that part of mine and Gladio’s duties is to get information from sources that the Crownsguard cannot just last week. I have been thinking this over, and have decided to put our names down for an investigation the Marshall has been heading.” Noctis almost wilts, until he notices Ignis’s significant look. “All four of our names down, considering the investigation was sparked by our fifth’s unfair eviction. Gladiolus is currently collecting Prompto and his camera.”

Noctis blinks and pushes himself up into a sitting position. “What’s the investigation about?”

He swears Ignis’s glasses glint in the light before he says, “Conditions in the Immigrant District. From what I can observe, the Crownsguard have yet to send in anyone quietly enough to record evidence of foul play. Which leaves us a perfect opportunity to begin our efforts with the Crownsguard.”

Noctis sits there, letting what Ignis said sink into his mind, before he shoots up out of the couch and latches onto Ignis’s hand. “Specs, you’re amazing.”

“Yes, well, it wouldn’t do for the Crown Prince to die of boredom, now would it?” Ignis asks with a quirk to his lips. “Come along, Miss Elsheart wants to ensure we all know what we will be doing and the cover story for why we have ventured so far from home.”

* * *

Prompto fiddles with his camera and tries to act like his heart isn’t trying to race out of his chest as he follows Ignis and Noctis through the streets with Gladio right behind him. Dad’s spoken about how investigations could go wrong, and only Ignis and Gladio really have any combat training among the four of them. He understands why this is important, but he kind of wishes they’d have been able to bring an adult Crownsguard along with them, just in case.

Their first destination, and the main reason behind their cover story, is to the apartment of Sir Crowe Altius. The Royal Kitchens have recently brought in a decent supply of some rare peppers found only in Galahd, and one of the chef’s paid out of her own pocket so Sir Altius’s grandmother would have some of the delivery for her own kitchen. And apparently, running such a delivery is well within the duties of intern Crownsguard such as Ignis and Gladio, and it’s safe enough for them to bring Noctis and Prompto along with them. Considering Prompto definitely wants to join the Crownsguard as soon as Dad will let him, he’s glad for the opportunity, since Auntie Monica has him down as an unofficial intern and is putting this delivery (and his inclusion in the investigation) into his records.

According to what information the Crownsguard have managed to scrounge up, this Grandmother Altius has taken it upon herself to help feed as many of the Kingsglaive while they’re on leave or on Citadel duty as possible, along with some of the civilians. It isn’t too far of a jump in logic that she may have keys to the apartments of the Kingsglaive, which will definitely assist in their investigation. The trick will be getting her permission to use her keys for that purpose. Otherwise, they’ll have to utilize a warrant which allows them to pick the locks of any apartment they need to get into, and Auntie Monica would really rather they not use that. Apparently it’s a warrant they needed to make specifically because of Dad’s habits.

Luckily, today also happens to be a day after Sir Altius shipped out for a quick scouting mission within Lucian territory, a mission which, according to Auntie Monica, Dad and Nyx are also joining. So, it isn’t likely that Sir Altius will be present, or be able to alert anyone to their presence.

Prompto frowns as they enter the Immigrant District proper, fingers twitching to take pictures of all the problems he’s seeing but there’s so many he doesn’t know where to start. The edges of the district aren’t that bad, storefronts with working lights in their windows and signs, the street and sidewalk in decent enough condition, all the little things to dissuade anyone from looking any deeper into how things really are like further in. But literally five feet beyond that, the sidewalks are missing light posts, though luckily where the lamp posts should be are covered up, there isn’t any proper drainage so the road and sidewalk- which are practically one being at this point from what Prompto can tell- have large puddles of rain water and other runoff, and the number of dedicated store fronts drops like a stone. The buildings themselves have bars on the windows and over the main entry doors. The people milling around are lively, yes, but it seems forced almost, as if they’re just going through the motions.

He finally decides to start with a shot of graffiti spray painted over what is clearly a scorch mark on the side of a nearby building. After that, the pictures just keep coming, especially as they keep going deeper into the district: exposed wiring from missing lamp posts, buildings looking six months- or less- away from needing to be torn down, a lack of a proper sewage system, the list goes on. He honestly feels sick, knowing that there are people whose homes had literally been torn away from them in possibly the most traumatizing manner and came to Insomnia for a new start, and yet this is what they’ve been greeted with.

Something tells him that he’s lucky that no one’s tried to stop and ask him why he’s taking so many pictures. It’s not like he’s being discrete about it.

It’s as he’s taking a snapshot of the so-called market area- the stalls look like they’re about to fall apart and there isn’t even any covering above the space in case rainfall gets through the Old Wall- that Ignis quietly states, “We’re a block away from the apartment. Gladio, you keep an eye out for any danger and keep in contact with the Crownsguard so they know our exact location at all times. Prompto, you keep doing as you are. Noctis, you’re going to help me write up reports and send them into the database. If any of you see anything, speak up and we’ll make sure to add it in.”

“Got it,” Gladio says with a nod, already pulling his cell phone out.

Prompto checks the snapshot and nods to himself. Quality’s good, you can clearly see everything that’s wrong. “Don’t worry, Specs, I’ve got plenty of material already.”

“That’s the worrisome part,” Ignis mutters, getting Noctis to nod in agreement. “There shouldn’t be any material for us to gather, and yet I don’t doubt you’ll need the extra SD cards we brought along before the day is out.”

“No wonder Nyx is so hesitant around us,” Noctis muses as he looks around. “I mean, this is the reception he and his people got when they came here. It’s terrible.”

“We’ll make it right, Princess,” Gladio rumbles, and somehow, Prompto gets the feeling that come hell or high water, they’ll do just that.

* * *

Monica scans the file set up for the quartet of Crownsguard interns she sent out to the Immigrant District, and smiles when she recognizes several exterior shots of buildings, many of which clearly show the hazards and code violations of the buildings themselves. Perfect. Though it doesn’t look like they have any interior shots, except for what looks like a staircase... a rather steep staircase that is missing railings and has quite the drop back to the ground. Six, this might be even worse than they thought.

At least most of their investigations into the nobles has turned out positively. No less than ten of those his Majesty placed in charge of the Immigrant District have been diverting cash flows away from green-lit projects, and a further number of elected officials have been bribed to look the other way. It’s maddening, sometimes, what the rich will do to suffocate those they do not like or approve of.

She’s just glad that his Majesty and his Highness are nothing like that.

She sighs and rubs at her temples. Gods, what a mess. They’re having to comb through everything that the nobles and elected officials have done in regards to the Immigrant District, including the immigration policies since a number of the nobles are tied into that area as well, which means a lot of time spent sorting through dry, boring laws that can numb your brain in seconds. Not the best of situations when dealing with a corruption case, since the likelihood of missing something critical goes absolutely through the roof. On top of that, they’re having to keep the bureaucrats off their tails so they didn’t go into a hissy fit and blow the whole investigation wide open. Monica hates having to deal with bureaucrats, and loathes the fact that Cor chose now of all times to disappear off out of the city.

She smiles as a ping comes from the speakers, and a check of the messages shows that somehow, Ignis got ahold of the rumored keyring from Mrs. Altius. Apparently with her blessing, for all that she has essentially given a promise to act as if they took them without her permission. She always knew those boys were going to be too good for their own good.

That smile slips away as someone knocks at the office door. She sighs and says, “Enter,” praying that it isn’t another delivery of paperwork for the Marshall. She’s taken to using his office, as his second in command of course, and especially for this investigation.

Dustin enters and closes the door almost immediately after him. “We might have a breakthrough,” he says and hurries over to the desk. “Charles uncovered several petitions from the immigrant district that we’ve never seen before, and they’re revealing a startling trend when compared with what ‘improvements’ have been made to the district. There’s also a startling number of children in the foster care system with no birth records or any trace of where they were before entering the system. Considering one of these petitions is for the return of their children taken by social services, this could be bad.”

“Understatement of the century,” Monica groans as she holds out her hand for his report. “Messy as Ifrit’s largest temper-tantrum is more accurate, if these kids really were taken from the refugee’s. Are there corresponding immigration paperwork?”

“That’s the thing, Ma’am. We can’t find it.”

“Look for it, they might have been buried in an attempt to hide this. Anything else?”

“Johnson says he’s almost done combing the immigration policies, should be ready to report within the hour. Petra’s managed to slip some trustworthy plains-clothes Crownsguard into the Immigrant District to cover the interns. And from what I’ve heard, the mission that the Marshall’s on has been completed and the team heading back to HQ, no casualties or injuries.”

“Good. Dismissed.”

Monica sighs as Dustin leaves, and she leans back in the desk chair. Well. At least Cor’s all right.

She is so going to make him deal with the bureaucrats once he’s back, though. Talk about a nightmare.

* * *

Regis flips through the various Kingsglaive files and recruits, looking for anyone who he believes would work best under Ulric instead of Drautos. It would be considered biased if Ulric himself chose his new men, despite his quips regarding ‘dragging his friends down with him’, and so the duty falls to Regis.

Well. He took the duty onto himself, in truth. Technically, it should have gone to Drautos, but Regis has this creeping feeling in the back of his mind that it wouldn’t be a good idea.

He raises an eyebrow when he comes across one Sonitius Bellum, who has apparently sent in a request for both himself and his younger brother to be transferred to the new regiment. According to his file, he’s nicknamed the Daemon of the Kingsglaive, partially because of his skill with multiple different weapons but mostly because of his tenacity while on a mission. Certainly, good qualities, however it also shows that Bellum and Ulric have not really worked together much outside of the training grounds. However, Regis will not begrudge an older brother wanting to keep an eye out for his younger, considering Celso Bellum is still a recruit, not even at the stage where he’s accepted Regis’s magic, and appears to be lagging behind his fellow recruits a bit under Drautos’s hands. He signs off on the double transfer, before going back to examining the other files.

Hm, certain Glaive’s will definitely be unsuited for transferring, especially those who have given Ulric grief in the past few months. And some of his older Glaive’s might not work, in part because they’re so intertwined with his own magic but also because they may not respect a Captain who only became a Glaive one year ago and only attained his rank due to his connection to the Prince.

Regis really, truly wishes there had been a better way to go about that, but what’s done is done. According to Cor’s reports, Ulric is shaping up to be a marvelous Captain, especially considering his attention to detail and care for those under his command in the few situations where Ulric had been the one training others instead of being trained himself. He’s apparently almost as ruthless a task master as Cor himself when it comes to military efficiency in training.

However, the point still stands. None of Regis’s own veteran Glaive’s are feasible for transfer, and a large number of Ulric’s peers have been harassing him repeatedly.

This will be a problem, but not one that Regis can see an easy answer to.

He finds gold when he stumbles across one of Ulric’s friend’s files. Pelna Khara, brilliant strategist, can come up with multiple scenarios ranging from mortally dangerous to mentally traumatizing and anything in between within minutes, has a high IQ with a hyperactivity disorder and anxiety, according to his psyche profile. Not so highly ranked with Lucian magic, but his speed is second to none and he would be a shoe-in for an officer’s position in the Crownsguard if he had decided to join them instead of the Glaive. And a dagger specialist as well. On paper, he’s actually a rather good candidate, and the fact that he has a record of successful missions alongside Ulric only adds to that.

Perhaps...

Regis hunts through the files of his black mages. Here we are, Crowe Altius. Young, only seventeen at this point in time*, but one of the strongest to have accepted his magic, and a natural mage on top of that. A bit of a pyromaniac, lives with her elderly grandmother and acts as the sole provider for her household. And despite this, she has several successful missions on record, many of them alongside Ulric.

A second hunt provides him with the final Glaive: Libertus Ostium. A few months older than Ulric, looks to be the middle of the road sort but, despite only just getting his magic levelled off, he’s one of the best to look for when training new recruits. Altius works well with him, as well, same with Khara and Ulric, and if there is one thing that Regis knows will do this regiment good is cohesiveness in the upper ranks. Mental profile says that Ostium isn’t the fondest of the nobility- actually, it says he outright hates them but considering what the Crownsguard are digging up regarding the Immigrant District so far Regis isn’t too surprised by that. By the Six, he’s not even very upset about the fact that he’s considering a Glaive whose dislike for those of nobility is so obvious for a transfer into his son’s Glaive regiment.

If only because Regis knows that Noctis will likely win Ostium over within the week.

And luckily, Regis will be able to say that his decisions were based on what was on paper, having not come into contact with these three Glaive’s since they received his magic unless in passing. No one will have any room to call bias.

He signs off on the transfer paperwork and sets it aside to wait until Ulric and Cor’s return.

* * *

That night, once safely ensconced inside a protected campground with dinner cooking away on the portable stove, Nyx suddenly asks, “So, what sort of souvenirs do you think the kids will like?”

Leonis pauses in making sure the tent they’ve been sharing is properly secured to turn a quizzical look at Nyx. “Souvenirs?”

“Well, yeah. Not like the kids can leave Insomnia all that easily, so what sort of things from outside the city do you think they’d like? Something from a hunt, or just an item from out beyond the Wall?”

Leonis stares at Nyx for a minute, his expression slowly morphing to one of mirth and amusement. “You do realize that they’re more likely to care about stories than gifts, right?”

Nyx blinks and tilts his head. “Really?”

“Regis lives vicariously through my reports of my time outside Insomnia, and always tries to drag every single detail out of me whenever I get back,” Leonis deadpans. “And Noctis always pesters me for some new story of what I did out here. Prompto’s the same way. Just make sure it’s toned down enough for children to hear them and you’ll be good.”

“But- still- stories?”

“Hunts, what places you saw, the people you met, any incident that you found funny, what information can be shared about our missions, they’ll eat it up.” Leonis shrugs. “But if you want to try and find a gift when our gil goes towards funds and gas and the like, who am I to stop you?”

Nyx winces. Yeah, that was kind of why he was asking, but he can see the Marshall’s point. As Nyx said, Noctis, Ignis, Gladio, and Prompto can’t exactly leave Insomnia on their own, Gladio only has to nearby campgrounds and those are supervised by Lord Amicitia. They probably will like to hear about what he did while he’s out here, but he’s still not sure if it will be enough. But... well, Leonis is still a commoner like Nyx, despite being the King’s brother-in-law and Prince’s Uncle. If he can get away with just stories, then maybe so can Nyx?

He brushes the thought aside for later contemplation, eyes scanning the darkness beyond the warded campground for any dangers on instinct. “Dinner’s going to be ready in a couple minutes,” he inelegantly changes the subject. “At least the daemons aren’t as active around here, we might be able to sleep the whole night through.”

“Mm, it’s likely. We can plot out where we’re going next over dinner, considering how close we are to a certain outpost we might be able to get a few pictures taken for Prompto and Noctis.” Leonis stands from the tent and walks over to the portable stove. “I still can’t believe you put spices into the Armory,” he mumbles as he stirs at their dinner.

“I’m a Galahdan, I always carry some form of spices with me, access to the Armory has just made it easier to do it,” Nyx deadpans with a shake of his head, already having some idea of what outpost Leonis is talking about. “Think there’s gonna be a tough hunt nearby?” He’s been dying not having any real hunts or chances to stretch his legs, so this trip is absolutely marvelous in his opinion. Sure, the company could be better, but at least he knows that Leonis will watch his back and keep him alive.

“Potentially, we’ll have to ask around and find out.”

* * *

Noctis buzzes as he, Prompto, Ignis, and Gladio step inside Uncle Cor’s office, where Monica is for the moment, anger and disgust swirling circles through his thoughts. It’s unacceptable, absolutely unacceptable, how the Immigrant District has been treated so far. He _knows_ Dad would never sign off of the conditions down there, refugee or not those are _his citizens_ , and Dad’s not like the rest of the Court who looks down on anyone from out beyond the Wall. They still look down on Ignis, despite the fact that Ignis trumps all of their “Retainer candidates” all the time, just because he’s from Tenebrae.

But that’s getting off topic. They have a report to make to Monica, and Noctis gets the feeling that she’s not going to be happy about this.

Well. No one’s happy with what they’ve been finding. Kind of redundant to think that Monica will only just now get upset over their information.

Especially since Noctis has been there when Dad signed off on several plans to better conditions in the Immigrant District, increased funding for the various departments in charge of public upkeep. Clearly none of it has been used for the purpose it was meant for, though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Please leave a comment and/or kudos, they make my day just that little bit brighter!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, it's been a while, hasn't it? I'm sorry about that, getting this chapter out has been like bashing my head against a brick wall.
> 
> A bit rushed, I think, but oh well. I'm kind of done staring at this.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

Monica strides inside of his Majesty’s office without so much as knocking, glad that his Majesty and Lord Amicitia are, in fact, doing their work instead of making out like teenagers, like the last five times she’s entered without announcing herself (usually because she followed Cor inside). “Your Majesty, Lord Amicitia, I have the final report for the investigation,” she announces, barely noticing that their friend and his Majesties former Retainer is also within the office. Huh, perhaps she should have knocked? “Is now a good time to present the findings?”

His Majesty looks up from his paperwork, glances over to Sir Armaugh, and sighs as he presses the button to initiate the soundproofing on the office. “Go ahead, Monica. What has the Crownsguard found?”

“Permission to speak freely?” His Majesty raises an eyebrow, but still grants her that permission. “Truth be told, your Majesty, it’s a mess. We found far too much to be handled at the same time. Immigration policies that allow the Crownsguard to turn refugees away at the gates should a certain number be exceeded or a fine not be paid, business policies that work around the anti-discrimination laws and make it harder for non-Insomnians to find and hold a job, the conditions within the Immigrant District itself are absolutely deplorable, Dustin found a list of children having been taken from their homes for various reasons by social services but we’re still having trouble _finding_ their files which means we suspect someone has made the children change their names, not to mention that Petra found too many within the Crownsguard itself being willing accomplices of these policies and often not reporting hate crimes or actively blocking petitions being sent to his Majesty’s desk. Oh, and that’s another thing, the fact that Johnson managed to find a multitude of petitions that I had never even heard of from the district stretching back to when Cavaugh first fell to Niflheim, petitions that would have had to cross his Majesty’s desk and yet considering the actions taken immediately after they were sent it is doubtful that’s the case. Each time a petition came to the Citadel, conditions in the Immigrant District got worse. What’s more, Leola found several discrepancies in the treasury when it came to the Kingsglaive paychecks, which leads us to assume that their pay is being garnished, but we have no idea where the missing funds are going at this time.”

Stone silence meets her statement. Monica swallows and prays that the butterflies in her stomach don’t come flying out of her mouth as his Majesty’s expression goes from surprised to darkly determined. “I see. Thank you, Monica, please send me all relevant files regarding what has been found thus far, I shall review and give further orders on the matter later.”

Monica nods. “Yes, your Majesty.”

Before she can leave, Sir Armaugh says, “Miss Elsheart, if you could help me contact the Altissian government so my resignation can be processed and begin organizing the transfer of my belongings to the Citadel, that would be appreciated.”

Monica blinks in Sir Armaugh’s direction, even as his Majesty says, “What.”

“Clearly,” Sir Armaugh continues, “Insomnia has fallen into disrepair without my oversight. I shall ask Madeline for the appropriate paperwork needed to return to my post as Regis’s Retainer.”

“Weskham, there is no need for this,” his Majesty argues, only to wither when Sir Armaugh turns a dry look in his direction.

“I would say there definitely is. Face it, Regis, you will need the assistance of a Retainer to deal with the increased paperwork load that you will be faced with while cleaning this mess up, and I already have the qualifications as your previous Retainer.”

“You just want better access to his Majesty so you can create a method to slow the degradation caused by the Old Wall,” Lord Amicitia dryly states.

“That, too.”

Monica shakes her head and says, “I shall get the process started for you, Sir Armaugh, however I do have other duties to attend to in the Marshall’s place.”

Sir Armaugh smiles and bows in her direction. “Any assistance you could provide is appreciated, Miss Elsheart, even directing me to someone more capable of providing that assistance.”

She snorts. “In that case, might I recommend asking Madeline? Seeing as, once the paperwork is processed, she will be in charge of your schedule alongside his Majesty’s and Lord Amicitia’s.”

“Hm, a fair point. Very well, I shall go do that.”

Monica quirks her lips and shakes her head as she walks out of his Majesty’s office. Now, to e-mail the reports to his Majesty and get through the backlog of other reports.

* * *

Cor glances down at his phone and raises an eyebrow. “Well, they’ve been busy,” he muses, drawing Ulric’s attention.

“Something going on, Marshall?”

“His Majesty assigned me a quiet investigation some months ago. We’ve finally hit several breakthroughs on it.” His eyebrow goes up as he receives a text from Regis, and pales once he reads the contents. “And apparently the breakthroughs have been enough to tempt Wesk back to Insomnia permanently.”

Ulric blinks at Cor for a minute, pausing in place as he did. “What breakthroughs could have caused his Majesty’s Retainer to return to the City?”

“Nothing you need to be concerned with, for now. You’ll likely find out once we return to the City ourselves.”

“That fills me with such confidence, Marshall. Really,” Ulric deadpans.

Cor rolls his eyes and snaps a hand out, smacking Ulric upside the head. “Right, you have energy to back talk, you have energy to deal with the Garula coming this way.”

“What?!”

“Chop-chop, no doubt Ignis will appreciate the steaks when we get back.”

“Ugh...”

* * *

Regis is utterly furious with what the Crownsguard have found, and has the feeling that even with all of this, it is only the tip of the iceberg.

Child trafficking, cultural genocide, purposefully placing citizens into unsanitary and unsafe living conditions, Immigration policies _that he did not sign off on and yet have his signature and stamp of approval_... If he weren’t still horrified that Wesk will be returning to Insomnia, he’d be thrilled. His old friend is correct, after all: Regis will so need as much help as he can get to deal with this.

He thinks long and hard through the night on what he can do, before coming to a few decisions that makes his stomach roll. The bureaucrats will no doubt enjoy having a reason to perform the bi-decade audits ahead of schedule, which will keep the Court busy for at least a month, maybe two. Besides, the Auditors specifically don’t care what your station or ethnicity is, just that you have your finances in order down to the last gil. Regis can use that time to come down on the issues already found, and even then, Monica hit the issue on the head by saying there’s too much to handle at one time.

The biggest problem that he can see is how the public will handle this situation. Regis cannot keep quiet on this forever, and should anyone blab there are likely to be riots in the streets. He cannot handle martial law on top of everything else, nor will the Crownsguard be able to both investigate _and_ keep the peace at the same time. On top of that, when this does get out, how will the public react, especially the Immigrant District itself? Or his Kingsglaive? He hates it, but the only reason they even started looking was because Sir Ulric had been found as Noctis’s soulmate, which will not paint a pretty picture of the monarchy. Damage control is going to be the name of the game, which means he’ll be running around like a chicken with it’s head cut off while working himself to an early grave.

He sighs and rubs a hand over his face. That’s it.

He needs to ask Noctis to take on his duties as Crown Prince.

Regis has always wanted Noctis to have as close to a normal childhood as possible, especially after the revelation of Noctis’s role as King of Light, but clearly that has inadvertently lead to Regis being overworked enough to miss all of these issues happening in his City, his Court. Even with Wesk’s return as his Retainer, there will be so large of a mess to untangle that it will be an absolute hell for months, if not years, to come. It might mean that Noctis will have to be pulled from public school simply to handle the workload that his duties will place upon his shoulders, especially with all the issues that the Crownsguard has been finding, however with the revelation that Prompto is Cor’s son, there shouldn’t be too many issues pulling the younger boy out as well and placing him in similar private lessons. At this point, Prompto is the main reason Noctis even attends public school, besides his own desire to be more like a normal child.

Regis just can’t see any way around it, though. If Noctis took on his duties as Crown Prince, then Regis would have help dealing with the minutiae of running a country alongside someone with somewhat fresh eyes looking at the problems as well, and both would be able to try to jointly work on the issue of alerting the Press to the issues without damaging the government’s reputation too badly, or causing riots (though something tells Regis that it will happen eventually, no matter what they try to do to prevent them). Besides, ever since Sir Ulric came along, Noctis has been more interested in his lessons and duties than he had been previously.

He sits down in a chair and sips at his glass of brandy, staring into the fireplace. So, unleash the bureaucrats on the Court, convince Noctis to take on his duties as Crown Prince, start untangling the mess his Court and officials have created, and figure out how to best divert a rather large public fallout over this crisis. But where to start?

The bureaucrats, especially the Auditors, will be the best avenue to find the missing funds and retrieve them from wherever they have been hidden. There isn’t much for Regis to do in that regard until the audits are complete and fines are being taken. A proper census of the Immigrant District should be held off until all of the policies and loopholes have been cut off and closed, especially if the children have been taken from their homes after a census occurs like he suspects happens. The Crownsguard may be able to take the opportunity the Audit, with the right permits, will present to comb through each and every office of Regis’s nobles and officials, looking for a replica of his stamp and any documents that may have lead to them learning how to copy Regis’s signature down to the smallest detail- really, if it weren’t treason, Regis would actually be impressed with the skill and dedication required.

He could ask to see the various petitions barred from his desk. And the business policies. That sounds like as good a place to start as any. Perhaps even look into any who had been adopted but are now old enough to live on their own and are trying to change their names to something other than a Lucian name. He could easily ask Noctis to visit the orphanages and various foster homes, see if there is any improper care of immigrant children occurring there under the guise of looking for further staff or just to see how the kids are doing, perhaps make some new friends if they can look past him being a Prince. It is a duty of the Royal family that Regis has been slacking on due to his workload, it wouldn’t seem too out of place should the Crown Prince be the one to fulfill it. They could work on the press issue as more information comes to light.

Well. It’s as good a plan as any.

He just hopes that Noctis will agree to the idea.

* * *

Nyx frowns over his shoulder as he watches Leonis check his phone for the sixth time that day. Every hour, on the hour, he’d been doing that, and it was making Nyx super nervous. Especially considering what he’d been told earlier in the day about them. It’s likely just hourly updates on the investigation now that a few breakthrough’s have been made, but being told to not worry about it for now is literally killing him.

Mostly because of the pure rage that he swears is pouring off of the Marshall with each update.

As they set up camp that night, he finally couldn’t take it anymore. “What’s gotten you so pissed, Marshall?”

Leonis glances up from where he is reading the latest update across the fire from Nyx and grunts. “The breakthroughs on the case. Looks like it’s going to be a political shitstorm and a half is hitting the Citadel, one that doesn’t appear to be stopping any time soon. Right before we have to head back, too.”

Nyx grimaces at the thought. Sheesh, yeah, that would piss anyone off. They’re gonna be instating a new section of the Lucian military once they get back, that’s, like, the worst time for a political shitstorm to be hitting. “Think it’ll affect the regiment’s establishment?”

Leonis’s snort isn’t at all comforting. “It might. It might not.” He sighs as he puts his phone away finally. “We won’t know until we get back.”

* * *

Noctis blinks at his Dad and thinks about what he’d just been told. Honestly, he’d been expecting something like this ever since their report to Monica, but hearing that he will definitely need- and no matter what Dad says, it is a need- to take up _all_ of his duties as Crown Prince despite his age... It’s a shock to his system. More so since he can see how much Dad _doesn’t_ want him to do this. But...

Dad had been performing so much more of his duties as Crown Prince when he was Noctis’s age than Noctis is doing now. Grandpa didn’t have a war bearing down on his head, and there weren’t any major crises until Dad was nearly an adult and ready to step onto the throne himself.

As much as he wants to be a normal kid... he knows he can’t be.

So, he gets up and walks over to Dad’s seat. He grabs Dad’s hands and says, “What do you need me to do, your Majesty?”

Dad’s tired sigh and smile make Noctis’s guts twist, but he knows this is necessary. For his Dad, for his people, and for his Nyx and his people.

Iggy’s gonna be thrilled over this. And at least Dad’s gonna be pulling Prompto out of public school with Noctis, so there’s that silver lining.

* * *

Ignis perks up when he hears that Noctis will be taking over his duties as Crown Prince. At least, until he hears that it’s going to be _all_ of his duties.

The realization that it is because of the oncoming storm thanks to their hand in the investigation of the Immigrant District isn’t entirely unsurprising.

The fact that Sir Weskham Armaugh is returning to his post, permanently, because of it is, however.

Regardless, since Noctis is taking up his full duties, that means Ignis and Gladio must do the same. And Prompto, the second their youngest soulmate learns of what’s going on. Monica seems thrilled to induct him into the Crownsguard before the Marshall’s return, but Ignis doesn’t really put much thought into it. Instead, he’s already making plans for how to best handle the surge of paperwork likely to hit Noctis and the rest of them. And a schedule to make sure they all can complete their lessons, the paperwork and other duties of a Crown Prince and his Retinue, preparations for Noctis’s Glaive regiment’s establishment, and any other requests the King may make of them, such as public appearances or disguised investigations.

They’ll definitely have a busy time, now that things are heating up.

* * *

The first sign that things are changing comes as the Auditors descend upon the entirety of the Court in masse with malicious glee, giving the nobles and officials no time to get their finances into “order” before the beginning of Audit season. With everyone scrambling, there is no time to notice as Crownsguard enter their offices with warrants in hand, or to really pay attention as Prince Noctis is pulled from public school within months of starting attendance to take up his duties. If the Auditors and other bureaucrats are being particularly stringent and checking each and every gil in the accounts and what it has been spent on with a far more thorough attention to detail, the victims of their scrutiny dismiss it as paranoia.

The second occurs as King Regis takes advantage of the hectic situation and gets his hands on several petitions the nobles had kept from him. He immediately begins reallocating funds for public service actions in the Immigrant District, granting what bureaucrats are not caught up in the Audit permission to keep a firm eye on the Treasury to ensure that the funds are properly distributed. Several laws the more corrupt of the Court managed to illegally ratify are quietly removed from the law books, businesses- the Crownsguard included- given warnings against discrimination of any kind alongside fines against them for the act, and word gets out in the Citadel that Weskham Armaugh has returned to his position as King Regis’s Retainer, worrying many who knows of the man’s reputation.

The third sign coincides with Prince Noctis visiting a few orphanages, an obvious PR ploy to redirect the Press’s attention away from what is happening in the Citadel, only to leave with a handful of Immigrant children that, as it is later found, end up joining his official Retinue under their original names after being reunited with their families. This catches the Press’s attention, and so the first interview of the Prince since he was pulled to take up his duties occurs. Or, they try to get information from the Prince, who quotes back that the situation is confidential and currently under investigation, so they have to drop the issue. It doesn’t stop speculations from arising amongst the public.

The final sign occurs as a large number of nobles and officials are kicked out of office and arrested, only to be promptly tried and banished. That sets the burglar in the vaults, as the Press hound the Citadel’s residents and workers for information behind the trials. News breaks out as the entirety of Social Services is gutted and Immigrants are hired to fill in the positions: the King and Prince have managed to uncover a massive spree of treason and misuse of power in the Court and government, and are taking action to correct it.

All in all, the return of Cor the Immortal and the Prince’s eldest soulmate is overlooked as non-important in comparison. And the announcement of a new section of the military under the Prince’s command? Completely unremarked upon.

Nyx just ends up wishing that the kids hadn’t insisted on blowing open this can of worms.

* * *

Nyx enters King Regis’s study feeling three times more tired than he probably looks, and about twice as terrified of Leonis as he had the month before from how bad his murderous rage rose in the last few days of their trip, only to increase exponentially upon their return to Insomnia and the crisis currently hitting the Crown City. “You asked to see me, your Majesty?” he asks, falling into attention in front of the King’s desk rather heavily paperwork-covered desk.

King Regis looks up and smiles at Nyx. “Yes, it’s about your regiment. Despite current events, the establishment is being kept as scheduled. I have the files for your veteran Glaive’s right here, please present them to your transfers and Drautos however you wish.” With that, King Regis hands over four files. “Both the orders for Drautos and your new Glaive’s are in the individual files. Take the time to peruse them before delivery.”

Nyx takes the files and gestures to the couch inside the study. Once King Regis gives his permission, Nyx sits down and flips open the first file.

He promptly chokes.

It’s Libertus’s file.

He then quickly opens the other four and has to contain his howls of laughter. Because besides the Bellum’s, which he expected, the files were for Pelna and Crowe. “Sir,” he chokes out, “may I ask why you chose these three?”

Nyx glanced up in time to see a rather innocent look on the King’s face. “Sir Altius is an astounding black mage with natural magic of her own and a complete control over her share of my magic. While it will take her time to adjust, I see no issues in her managing the black mages in your regiment. Sir Khara is a brilliant strategist and comes second to yourself in your previous speed and ability with daggers, though he is not as strong in the Lucian magic as you had been. And Sir Ostium is of the right temperament to lead troops into battle, along with working alongside the Crownsguard in their various investigations, which will be your regiments duties until it has filled in enough to be sent out onto the front lines. There is also the fact that all three of them work well not only together, but with you. All that will change is that you will be giving the final orders.”

Nyx can’t help but cackle at hearing the King’s reasoning. Because, yeah, those are all good and legitimate points to ensure that no one can question the choices. Still. “If I’d been allowed to recommend anyone, your Majesty, it would have been these three,” he admits, tapping the papers as he stands to leave the office. “If you’ll excuse me, I do believe I have some Glaive’s to poach from Drautos into this ‘Princeglaive’ I’m establishing.”

Nyx catches out of the corner of his eye King Regis’s smile at the term Nyx created on the spot for his little Glaive regiment. He certainly liked it.

Maybe Nyx could keep it as their official name, to differentiate them from the Kingsglaive...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Please drop a comment and/or kudos, they clear away the cloud of depression and help me work on the next chapter!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter this time, I've been hit with a new inspiration so this is having to fight for attention. Though I'm not planning on abandoning this story any time soon! (Even though I have so many stories that haven't been updated in forever.... XD )

Nyx grins as he saunters through the Kingsglaive area, straight up to Drautos’s office. Several Glaives that he passes seem to turn and follow him, which means that likely the news will spread throughout the entire Glaive within fifteen minutes.

Hopefully not before he presents his friends’ new orders to them.

He wants to see Libs’ _face_ learning that Nyx had no say in his new veteran Glaives.

He jauntily knocks at Drautos’s door, and doesn’t bother waiting to receive permission to enter. Instead, he swings the door open with a wide grin. “Drautos! Lovely to see you again,” he says as honestly as he can make his voice sound.

The stare he receives from Drautos does not mean good things, normally. “Ulric, I thought you said you were no longer my problem seven months ago,” his old Captain says.

Nyx’s grin widens. “Well, yes, but you see, there’s this teeny-tiny little problem called I need veteran Glaives for my regiment. And since I would be biased in my decisions, the King spent the past month making the selection for me, between everything else that he’s been doing.” He hands over five sheaths of paper. “These are the individual Glaive’s new orders, don’t worry about any signatures, they’re already in effect by the King’s order. Pleasure doing business with you, my fellow Glaive Captain.” Nyx faux-salutes as he adds, “Ta,” and leaves Drautos’s office.

Is this what the cat who not only got the canary, but the cream, and then blamed the dog for it all felt like? He might be addicted to it.

Drautos looked like he was about to snap his pen in half!

He whistles under his breath as he heads towards the breakroom, where he knows Libs and Crowe at the least will be at this time of morning. “Oh, Libs,” he crows as he enters the breakroom. “It’s finally the day!”

Libertus looks up at Nyx with horror etching itself into his face. Ah, glorious. “No, no! I am NOT taking orders from you!”

“Oh, but you have no choice,” Nyx says, handing over Libertus’s copy of the King’s orders. “The _King_ picked you out, specifically, and has already made these orders fully binding.” Oh, yes, Libs’ face truly is a thing of wonder right now, all twisted up in horror and murderous rage and resignation. Nyx is loving this. He then sharply turns to Crowe. “Ah, Crowe, my dear maniacal pyromaniac, don’t think I forgot about you, either.” He hands over her orders, which she takes with a look of clear disgust.

“This is _only_ because the stupid Prince is cute, and the way your face melts whenever he’s around is nauseatingly sweet and useful blackmail material,” she states with utter conviction, staring at the order like she could set it aflame with just her eyes. “Who’s the other lucky bastards?”

Nyx glances around the breakroom, eyeing all the tense and anticipatory Glaives surrounding them. “Not here yet,” he admits, causing all of them to deflate, either in disappointment or relief, he couldn’t particularly tell. Nor could he care.

“You want to play this close to the chest, don’t you?” Libertus grumbles before he slugs back his coffee.

“If I could take pictures of your faces without it seeming suspicious, I would already have my phone set to record,” Nyx automatically states, and brightens as his final victim enters the breakroom. “Pelna! Wonderful, I was just waiting for you.”

Pelna freezes and gives Nyx a wide-eyed look. “Why do I get the feeling that I should be running? I probably should be running, shouldn’t I?”

“Absolutely,” Libertus deadpans.

Bellum suddenly appears behind Pelna and places a hand on his shoulder. “Too late,” he deadpans, and raises an eyebrow.

Nyx rolls his eyes and passes over Bellum’s file. “Yes, here is both halves of my end of the deal, you can give your brother his when you see him,” he admits, before joyfully handing Pelna’s file over. “Orders directly from the King, you have been reassigned to under my command,” Nyx says, grinning. “Welcome to the Princeglaive.”

“We are not calling it that,” Crowe says.

“Well, what else would we call it?” Nyx asks, turning to her. “I mean, there’s already a Kingsglaive, and it would be best to separate the two regiments by their organization name, wouldn’t it? So, keeping with the theme, Princeglaive is really the best option. But,” he sighs, “if you have any better ideas I’ll be open to hearing them.”

Pelna then says, “I definitely should have run. Working under you of all people...”

Nyx’s grin doesn’t abate a single inch.

* * *

“All right,” Libertus says once the group of Glaive’s have moved to Nyx’s apartment (in lieu of an office since one hasn’t been set up for Nyx yet). “So, the four of us get switched over to the Prince’s magic, Celso gaining said magic in the process. The plan after is to spread the word and start recruiting and training so we can get back to the field, right?”

“Well,” Nyx stretches the word out and looks off to the side, away from the gathering in the living area. “Yes, that is how it’ll work, except I’m thinking our position on the field will be different from the Kingsglaive’s.”

“Ulric,” Bellum says as his eyes narrow and frame tenses.

“Just, hear me out,” Nyx hastens to say, waving a hand slightly to cut off any comments or complaints. “Over the course of the training Leonis put me through, I kind of got to thinking, the Glaive isn’t actually _supposed_ to be the main bulk of the combatants on the front lines. I mean, not all of us are weapons specialists, and some take to the magic more than others. The very first thing Leonis started me on was a _ranged_ weapon. What’s the most common weapon in the Glaive?”

“Kukris and daggers,” Pelna immediately answers. He presses steepled hands against his lips as his eyebrows furrow. “We don’t really use anything ranged unless it’s magic, and as you said not everyone takes to the magic enough to use the elemental aspects of it. I certainly can’t.”

Nyx nods along with what Pelna says. “Exactly, which puts more pressure on the mages to provide ranged support. Except when you think about it, with the addition of Lucian magic, we’re more inclined towards shock troops and specialists instead of the main front lines assault. Our _basic training_ focuses more on stealth and hit-and-run tactics than the brute force required for the front lines. Meanwhile, the Crownsguard focuses on that brute force, and trains their soldiers to be versatile. Every member is expected to know how to use a gun in the case of emergency, alongside whatever close-range weapon they prefer.”

“So, what, we’re gonna be shock troops?” Crowe asks, playing with a ball of fire in her hand. “Not like I won’t mind it, sort of, but what’re you trying to get at, Ulric?”

“It’s a long-term plan, but I’d like to see actual cooperation between the units of the military,” Nyx says, utterly serious. “Our units won’t be going out until we’re sure the Little Prince can handle the strain on his magic and the regiment’s been filled out, so we’re going to initially be working pretty closely with the Crownsguard, helping them with investigations in the city and such. Who knows, maybe I can ask the Little Prince if he could get us assigned to the whole debacle going down in the Immigrant District right now. Either way, I want to see that cooperation continue out on the front lines, get the Crownsguard back out onto the field and free up both Glaive’s to do what we’re actually trained to do.”

“It’s a good plan,” Pelna says after a beat. “The question is how the Crownsguard will take to it. I mean, they’re not exactly friendly to Glaive’s.” He frowns in thought. “We’d need the Marshall and Lord Amicitia to agree to the plan, if only to give it some legitimacy. They’re in charge of the Crownsguard, so if they go along with it, the rest have to follow suit.”

“I’m already planning on approaching the Marshall about this. Hopefully, he’ll be the one to take it to Lord Amicitia instead of me,” Nyx says, a shudder wracking through his spine. His phone chimes, and he quickly checks it. “Ah, looks like the Little Prince is ready for the transfer of magic and is on his way.” He glances up towards Bellum and smirks. “And yes, Celso is with him. Already has the magic and everything.”

Bellum grunts and leans against the counter, clearly still mulling over what Nyx has told them all of his plans. He glances over at Libertus, who also has a pensive, but mulish, look on his face. Eh, he’ll come around. And Crowe just looks bored, but Nyx knows she actually already sort of approves of Noctis, so hopefully there won’t be to many issues there.

Though he can’t pin down this feeling of foreboding that’s trailing itself down his spine...

* * *

Noctis grins as he leads the way to Nyx’s room, hand firmly wrapped around the wrist of his surprise for Nyx. Coming across her in one of the orphanages he’s visited had been a complete surprise, and she all but broke down sobbing when Noctis showed her a recent picture of Nyx so she would believe him on the fact that the man is alive. He’s sure that Nyx will love this.

Getting Celso Bellum’s silence on the matter actually is a simple task: all he needed to do was promise blackmail on the teen’s new Captain that he can share with his older brother, and Celso was all for going along with the surprise.

“Are you sure this will be all right?” she asks, her quiet voice caught between amusement and worry.

Noctis turns his grin towards her and nods his head enthusiastically. “Uh-huh! He gets really sad whenever he looks at the picture of you and your mom, so he’ll probably be really happy to see you.”

Her responding smile is shaky, but Noctis can see the hope and anticipation written on her face.

Noctis really hopes that Nyx appreciates this surprise.

They get to Nyx’s rooms easily enough, and as usual Noctis doesn’t bother with knocking, opening the door and calling out, “Nyx! I gotta surprise for you!”

“What is it, Little-“ Nyx asks as he turns in his seat, only to freeze, staring at the teen whose wrist Noctis is still holding. Confusion and hope war for a hold over his face, as the other Glaive’s in the room take notice of the teen’s presence and freeze as well, Sir Ostium even choking hard enough for Sir Khara to pound on his back a couple times. Nyx slowly rises and steps around the couch. “...Selena?”

Selena Ulric steps forward, Noctis letting go of her wrist, and she gives a hesitant smile. “Yeah, Nyx. It’s... it’s me.”

Surprisingly to Noctis, it’s Sir Altius that demands, “Prove it.”

As the rest of the room blink at the serious edging on angry Ifrit Mage, Selena just looks resigned. She lifts her shirt and shows off a bright orange-red mark that looked like a moon set on fire, with a dull black set of gears in the background. “It’s me, Crowe. I don’t think Niflheim could fake our Mark this well.”

By Sir Altius’s stutter in breath, Noctis takes that to mean they really are soul mates. Oh, he got more than just Nyx! Selena hadn’t mentioned she’s Sir Altius’s soul mate!

Noctis’s grin softens as Nyx stumbles forward and pulls Selena into a hug, stepping back as the two siblings almost instantly start bawling over the realization that the other really is there and alive. He pulls out his phone and presses send on the text draft he’s had sitting on it, sending a message to the other Glaive’s in the room that they’ll get to work on untangling them from Dad’s magic in the morning. He left the group, knowing that this is something that he likely would just get in the way over, and made sure to send a text specifically to Celso and Sir Bellum, with directions to a set of rooms for them to use for the night.

The walk back to his new office is quiet, but he feels a whole lot lighter than he has in a while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, how'd you like that twist? ^3^  
> I figured that, with all the heavy stuff going on, dealing with the Immigrant District and such, I needed to add a bit more fluff. And so, I decided that yes- Selena Ulric LIVES in this universe! Though how that happened will be explained in the next chapter.
> 
> Thanks for reading! Remember, comments and kudos makes a very happy writer!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading~! More chapters will be up on an irregular pattern.
> 
> Comments and Kudos are my lifeblood!


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